


Mercenary

by Maddy02



Series: Amber Sails [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Author may have a Sliiight Golden Deer Bias, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Fencing Fighting Torture Revenge Giants Monsters Chases Escapes True Love Miracles, Gen, Humour, Peril, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Swearing, father-daughter bonding, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 78,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddy02/pseuds/Maddy02
Summary: Jeralt knew better than to run from the Knights of Seiros; but he wouldn’t expose his daughter to Rhea before he had to. After saving the house leaders Byleth leads the company to the job in the Kingdom, returning to Garreg Mach much later.OR:Byleth gets her own damn route.
Relationships: Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Sothis, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Amber Sails [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783402
Comments: 710
Kudos: 752
Collections: The Mercenary Collection





	1. The First Time We Spoke

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin: There are nods to pairings in here, but the only one that is openly acknowledged in to the narrative is Claude/Byleth and I’m only mentioning it now at all so those who clicked for that tag specifically don’t get their hopes up too early. This story isn’t really about that relationship (though a certain someone is certainly trying his hardest to make it so), or romance at all really but… well it does come up. C’est la vie.
> 
> Secondly: Ceephus, who has no profile that I can find anywhere, is to blame for this. They said really nice things about Crescent Moon at Dawn over on FFNet (It being the first thing I had posted in something like 8 years) and my characterisations therein and I couldn’t thank them and so instead suddenly I had spiralled down the depths of AO3 and had a 30k outline that wouldn’t leave me alone and kept growing. Who do these people think they are, leaving reviews and giving us motivation? Honestly! (If you’re reading this, Ceephus; thank you)

Great Tree Moon

“ _My, my, that was exhilarating.”_

Byleth had meant to step forward with her father, to remain his shadow as he talked with the loud Knight in gleaming white armour, but the girl’s –Sothis’- voice in her head halted her.

 _“Are you… HereRealForever?”_ The thought stumbled over itself as she tried to put it into words, it was strange and somewhat alarming to _feel_ a sense of bemusement that was not her own, but originated with Sothis, before the girl answered;

_“As far as I can tell. But we can discuss that later, it seems the little ones are after your attention.”_

Indeed, the young people they’d stepped in to rescue hadn’t hesitated when she had, and arrayed themselves in front of her. They were each clearly cultured and intelligent - _nobles_ \- and she was soon on the back-foot, admitting she hadn’t known her father had ever served as a Knight, but then-

-were they propositioning her?

Well, she would admit that that was a little flattering. No-one had ever asked for the Ashen Demon when the Blade Breaker was standing by.

She rebalanced herself, mentally, and looked at them anew; as potential employers instead of allies to be protected. Edelgard was direct, her language refined, her stance carefully poised; but Byleth had a sense she was being measured against some standard she’d never know. Dimitri was earnest and came across as sincere, yet she felt there was something darker, almost haunted, driving his request. Claude set himself apart by forgoing formality for a handsome smile; but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not even as he finished teasing his companions and directed it at her; 

“But it seems there’s no time for niceties in this world. So, tell us, capable stranger; where does your allegiance-”

“Byleth.”

Jeralt’s voice cut through the conversation and he beckoned her over to him with a quick jerk of his head. She murmured a brief excusal to the students of the officer’s academy (whatever that was), bowed, and strode over to join him. He was frowning, which was unusual, her Father tended towards good humour, and as she approached he put an arm around her shoulder drawing her close and bending his head slightly to speak in his low rumble for her ears only.

“Listen, Kid” he began, ominously “I’ve been… _summoned_ , you could say, and I don’t see any clear way out of it, but we’ve a good job lined up and the men will be wanting the pay. So, here’s the plan; I’ll go ahead to Garreg Mach and get the lay of the land while you take the company up to the Kingdom. It’ll take you a solid day and a half at least to get there and it sounds like a pretty big campaign, so it may be a moon or two before you can catch up. Are you up for it?”

“If you think it best.” She answered immediately. Byleth had always trusted the path her Father set before her, and saw no reason to start doubting it now.

“Well, not so much _best_ as _inevitable_. Maybe I can only delay it so long...” He mused quietly, almost to himself, then took a step back pulling a packet from inside his tunic, the details for the job, to hand to her. His voice returning to its usual volume as he continued; “We don’t have anything lined up after this, but anyone who wants to keep with us can head back to the monastery with you once the job is done. There’s a garrison that’ll –well, that can wait for the time being. Ask for me once you get there, got it?”

“Ask for you at Garreg Mach. Got it.” She agreed, briefly checking the enclosed map for the route he’d intended to take –if it’d take over a day to get to the job she could go over the rest of the details when they camped for the night.

In a rare display of public affection, Jeralt put a hand on her head to ruffle her hair “Good girl. Now, don’t go doing anything stupid and get moving. Daylight’s wasting.”

“Yes, Boss” Byleth nodded and turned on her heel to round up the mercenaries and set out. She didn’t say goodbye or smile or wave to her father –it simply did not occur to her to do so.

~o~*~o~

The three noble brats had wilted a little when he sent Byleth away; Jeralt didn’t blame them. The Blade Breaker may have the more renowned reputation, but the Ashen Demon wasn’t too far off in some circles. She was a skilled mercenary their own age and moreover; one who had saved their lives, and protected them by fighting at their side. That would be an interesting and approachable figure to kids still figuring out the chaos of the battlefield. 

Well, “approachable” was relative in Byleth’s case. She wasn’t especially intimidating _off_ the battlefield, but not exactly what you’d call inviting either. He hoped taking command of their regular crew, without his interference muddling things up, would open her up enough to survive the mire that would be Garreg Mach by the time she got there. The better she fit in, the less notice she’d draw, especially from the higher-ups. At the moment, that was the best strategy he had, flimsy though it was.

He’d rather not have risked upsetting those who turned out to be the future heads of the three nations of Fódlan, but when he found himself standing in front of Rhea’s porcelain beauty once more, he did not regret it in the slightest.

“I know what you’re going to say. Re-join the Knights of Seiros… Well, I won’t say ‘no’, but…”

“Your apprehension stings. Still, you must be concerned for your present comrades, I assure you we will find provision for them in the guild.”

“Thank you, that had troubled me. That said, it shouldn’t be necessary for a moon or two. My second took the troop up north to answer a job we were booked on before Alois shanghaied me.”

“Is that so? That would be the one they call the Ashen Demon, would it not? I had heard a rumour that you sired her.”

“Well, that parts true enough. I’ve lost more than enough family; as soon as I could I taught _this_ daughter to defend herself. If her reputation has reached even here, then perhaps I’ve done a good enough job of it.” 

“I see. Well then, I look forward to making her acquaintance. In the meanwhile, I’m sure Alois has much to inform you of. Seteth will likely be looking for you shortly also. It is good to see you again Jeralt.”

“And you, Lady Rhea.” 

No, he thought as he took his leave of the Archbishop, no matter who he might offend, he didn’t regret keeping Byleth from the Monastery even one second longer. Not so long as he couldn’t figure out who was the better liar; himself or Rhea.

~o~*~o~

Alois frowned, stroking his moustache, as he watched the Professors choose their houses for the year. If only the Captain’s daughter had come with them! She’d been remarkably capable and it seemed as though the House Leaders had taken to her in a short space of time as well –although saving their lives was bound to have such an effect. Still he had a gut feeling she’d have been a better fit and his gut was usually on the money. He’d have recommended her himself!

“The Black Eagle House” Jeritza intoned, and Manuela scowled –clearly she’d been angling for that diva, Dorothea- but the expression was fleeting and she graciously accepted the Golden Deer, leaving Hanneman the Blue Lions.

Well, Alois mused, at least they had _someone_ to stand in.

~o~*~o~

Margrave Gautier was formidable. He was less charming than any of his children she would eventually learn, but sharper, harsher, shrewder. Although those edges were kept carefully under noble polish and politesse. He’d accepted the Ashen Demon in place of the Blade Breaker without batting an eye, but she had the feeling she was being judged for it.

 _“Calculating, that one.”_ Sothis murmured in her mind, and Byleth was thankful she’d waited until they’d left the Margrave’s study before startling her _“Cold, like this land. I wonder what it was he kept from you?”_

 _“Something AboutRegarding LeaderBossMiklanDangerous.”_ Byleth responded, as best she could, still unaccustomed to parsing out her thoughts into sentences.

 _“Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. And really! You must stop jumping so at the sound of my voice! I am always with you. Although… perhaps it is time… for another nap…”_ the feeling of _connection_ that she was beginning to associate with the voice in her head dimmed, but lingered at the edge of her mind as she made her way back to her troops.

“So, Little Boss” Willard, one of the mercenaries who had been with them as far back as she could remember asked “what’s it to be?”

“As expected. Presently, the Margrave has enough forces to defend the villages or to attack, but not both. He’d like us to lead the attack and take on their leader -scatter the bandits before they’re able to stage anything significant. Apparently the leader bears Gautier a grudge.”

“Well, naturally.” Answered Sanderson, who, if she was Jeralt’s right hand would be his left -and would probably be her second for as long as she was leading the troop “Nobody hires the Blade Breaker or the Ashen Demon for something as trivial as _guard duty_. At least the weather should be warming up. What’s the plan then?”

“Siege.” Byleth answered briefly, then expanded; “The Margrave has a report that they’ve taken over an old watchtower. We’ll hound them inside then wait them out. We’ll be able to forage and hunt, but they’ll be stuck on winter rations. If the leader is clever he’ll rush us sooner than later –but we’ll be prepared.” She added with a significant glance to the small group of trapping experts Jeralt had cultivated. No tactic was too lowly to be used against a bandit after all; this wasn’t a duel of honour to be called at first blood, but life and death.

Raoul, a swordsman with a habit of finding, or being found by, trouble (and most unfortunately, the talent to get himself out of enough scrapes to go deliberately looking for more) scoffed “The Blade Breaker would charge them, never mind wasting our time digging pits and waiting for our opponents to crawl out of their hole.”

“The Blade Breaker isn’t here.” Byleth reminded them flatly “And we’re not facing a time limit. Why run headlong a position they’ll have defended when we can control the land around it for as long as needs be.”

~o~*~o~

There was something new in Rhea’s eyes, Seteth noted, as he listened to Jeralt report the results of the mock battle to them. A gleaming hope that hadn’t been present since before she had called him from his long vigil at Zanado.

He didn’t distrust it exactly, but considering the attack on the house leaders, the loss of a Professor, Shamir’s reports _and_ their suspicious individual, he did wonder… what in the world could have put it there?


	2. Will You Stop Putting Us in Danger? Honestly!

Harpstring Moon

The Black Eagles were hunting down bandits in Zanado and here they were, stuck with a downright peaceable mission.

If it hadn’t been for the opportunity to see a bit more the of the Empire –lands he hadn’t been able to venture too far into previously, Claude might have been upset about being little more than glorified couriers. As it was Lorenz was putting up enough of a show of affront for all of them.

“This is a complete waste of my talents.” Had been his refrain for the past several hours, until finally Professor Manuela snapped

“Well, so what if it’s a little boring? Believe me, some days you _yearn_ for a little boring. By the time the year is through you’ll have seen your share of the action, so stop moaning, it’s very unbecoming.”

~o~*~o~

It turned out that Miklan _was_ clever enough to rush the siege Byleth had set up sooner than later, but not quite clever enough to break it. Had he thrown all of his forces against them in his first strike, he could well have broken through; he’d attacked less than a day after he was besieged, when they weren’t yet fully prepared. They hadn’t had _all_ the pits and traps and watch points she’d planned on set out when he’d moved.

But he had underestimated them. Hadn’t struck hard enough and had been forced to retreat back inside with several wounded comrades.

Raoul was chomping at the bit to go after them, but Byleth knew better than to chase a wounded quarry into its den. She knew what _she’d_ be doing if she had a watchtower built to repel invasions at her disposal; the traps they’d rearranged outside were mere distractions by comparison, though each could easily kill five men if sprung successfully.

Starvation was a slow way to go. A warrior like Miklan wouldn’t abide it; he’d attack again before too long, was already probably trying to spy out their camp and their movements to choose the best time.

She could be patient. It would be over soon enough.

_“What a strange creature you are.”_ Sothis commented _“On the one hand it feels as though you respect him, on the other as though you are merely waiting for news of an inevitable death that has nothing to do with you.”_

_“Respect for an opponent is… necessary.”_ Byleth sounded out in her head. She had stopped jumping at Sothis’s interruptions, even learned to anticipate them, and was _slowly_ getting better at “speaking” without sending a full stream of consciousness to her constant companion. “ _At least… enough to KnowAcknowledgeAccept… that they CouldPossibility ChanceLuckSkillUnexpectedStrategy… get the better of you. Whether PersonalMoralityActions they deserve it or not.”_

_“Your father taught you that I suppose? Well, if you’d learn to respect death as much as your opponents before you next get the urge to jump in front of an axe for someone else, I’d much appreciate it.” _

They lapsed into silence, but she was still aware of the connection that she’d come to realise meant Sothis was awake or active. It was very strange to have someone in her head _feeling_ her reactions. Byleth was self-aware enough to know that she was… odd. That most people _showed_ their feelings externally, to a far greater degree than she did. With Sothis, it did not matter how much or little she emoted; Sothis couldn’t see her, unless she were to deliberately place herself in front of a reflection, or concentrate and “fall” into that calm space between them, to stand before the strange throne Sothis seated herself upon. Instead the girl “heard” her thoughts, “experienced” her feelings.

They were perhaps the most honest conversations Byleth had ever had.

_“This waiting is interminable! How long are we going to be stuck in this forest? I’d like to see this monastery your father was so wary of. That sounds interesting.”_

_“You’re about to get your wish. AskAndYeShallReceive. WhatTiming.”_

The doors of the tower opened and she gave the sharp whistle that would bring her crew from their rest into position. Sothis fell quiet in her mind, she had learned that on the battlefield, Byleth needed no observations but her own.

~o~*~o~

The Black Eagles were hunting down bandits in Zanado and here they were, escorting a caravan of monks with nothing of any monetary value along the safest roads in Leicester. 

It was almost demeaning, and yet, Dimitri was glad for it; to spend some time in comparatively peaceful lands, away from the reminder of those he had failed.

Unfortunately, Sylvain had given up on trying to get any conversation out of Felix and had taken to flirting with the girls… and right on cue, Ingrid’s lecture (Number 32, variant C: Appropriate conduct in mixed company) began.

“Now, now” Hanneman interrupted at last, before she could move on to the next one (probably 2B: Consider how you impact our reputation) “That’s quite enough for the time being. Tell me, as we’re in the Alliance, does anyone know the legend of Gradivus; the spear that defended Fódlan’s Throat?” 

~o~*~o~

Byleth was determined that none of her Father’s men would die on her watch. Even though Raoul’s knack for landing himself in the thick of it was doing the absolute best to challenge that determination.

No plan survived contact with the enemy, but hers had gone so far awry that she _had_ to give Miklan credit for his tactics. When the doors had opened the thieves had rolled out smoking barrels and in response she had pulled the mercenaries back in preparation for an explosion –only to realise too late that the smoke was there to allow the weakest of the bandits to make their escape under cover.

There was still honour among thieves, apparently. Miklan was a leader who kept the desperate at his side by treating them well –or at the very least, better than anyone else ever had. If not for his grudge against the Gautier territory, he would have made a formidable mercenary. She could easily imagine her father recruiting him.

Her plan had been that Willard, strong, dependable Willard, who could lift her above his head with one hand, would engage the heavily armoured Miklan, with Sanderson backing him up. Yet somehow in the melee, when those of Miklan’s forces who still had the strength to fight had charged out of the smoke, it was Raoul that had locked with Miklan. Skilled he may be, but he wasn’t able to do any effective damage against that plate.

Worse than that; she could see every opening her father would have given her. Could choreograph in her head how she’d sweep his feet as the Blade Breaker swung high from the saddle. It would be so _easy_.

And even worse… she was beginning to think Raoul had forgotten that they’ve moved the traps around after the first attack.

“Switch.” she called to him, dancing on the edge of their fight, trying to find a way in without letting herself or Raoul be impaled by the thrust of Miklan’s spear “Raoul, swap.”

Raoul ignored her. Miklan didn’t.

“Seems like your little girlfriend wants to play. Pretty little bitch, once I’m done with you maybe I’ll indulge her.”

Raoul smirked, unperturbed “Save your breath. There’s no man here desperate enough to want to fuck the Ashen Demon.”

“That’s her is it? Ha, the old man’s paying the big money! What a waste.”

“Raoul!” Byleth called out again, a note of warning finally entering her voice. He was dangerously close now to falling into one of their pits.

Perhaps he caught her warning, or perhaps it was luck, but with Miklan’s next lunge he dodged at an angle, bringing them parallel to the trap.

Byleth didn’t hesitate. She charged straight at them throwing her full weight and all the momentum she could gather into checking Miklan that extra step into the pit. Her shoulder impacted painfully, jarring down to her fingers and up her jaw, and probably dislocated, but it was enough. He staggered a step. The ground gave way. He fell. A steel-tipped spike that had been fixed into the ground impaled him at an angle through his lower back emerging from his right pectoral through all the layers of his armour. Byleth teetered on the edge of the pit and only Raoul’s quick grasp on her coat stopped her from tumbling after him to the same end.

“Curse you… father…” Miklan whispered as the light left his eyes.

Raoul used his grip to heave her back a step and looked over the pit. “Huh. I’d forgotten that one.” He let go of her coat and smiled winningly at her “I suppose that makes us about even?” 

Byleth, already on the receiving end of an internal torrent of admonishments directed at both of them, gripped her shoulder and nodded.

~o~*~o~

The Black Eagles were hunting down bandits in Zanado and already it was a disaster.

Jeritza was not a… _caring_ , individual. No, Jeritza was not a _stable_ individual. Edelgard could see the struggle in him as he suppressed his instincts and let the students take the lead. She saw how he fought with himself to not simply sweep the field in a trail of crimson glory.

Combat Instructor had been the ideal position for him. He’d only had to deal with those looking to improve that specific skill. At least eighty percent of those interactions could be purely sparring, which was Jeritza’s element. Professor was significantly more challenging; oh, he could _lecture_ them from the textbooks well enough (if monotonously), and their weapon skills would probably never be sharper -however a _Professor_ was also supposed to guide, instruct and support.

But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? He wasn’t going to call Ferdinand out for stepping out of formation, leaving Bernadetta exposed. He wasn’t going to reign Caspar back; he certainly wasn’t going to teach Dorothea that only _she_ could determine her own worth. He wasn’t going to wake Lindhart up in class, nor help him overcome his aversion to blood on the field.

Not unless she told him to. Explicitly set out what he should say to each of them. She was going to have to, it seemed, to cover for him. She needed an unseen hand in Garreg Mach; Hubert was too obvious, House Vestra too closely tied with House Hresvelg. Jeritza was already in place and had reach into the faculty that she could not. It was far too soon to risk any exposure; the year had hardly begun.

Even so, it was indicative of how **much** she’d have to support him, that even after watching the Eagles perform a respectable enough pincer attack to end that fool Kostas and finish the mission, she _still_ had to raise her brows and give a significant nod to the rest of the students to prompt him to say as little as “Well done. Let us return.”

It was going to be a long year.


	3. What of Kith and Kin?

Garland Moon

With her arm bound tightly to keep her shoulder still and her sword holstered on the opposite side from usual so she could more easily draw it offhanded, Byleth felt somewhat uneasy as she finished yet another meeting with the Margrave; unbalanced, off-kilter.

She did not know if that was because of her physical limitation or what she’d just learned about Miklan. Miklan _Gautier_.

She’d agreed to the follow-up job the Margrave offered regardless. To round up the last of the thieves that had been part of Miklan’s group. However, she made it clear that beyond that she’d have to begin planning to re-join the Blade Breaker. Two of her swords had split off to try their luck on the more lucrative roads of Leicester for the summer trading season and she didn’t have Jeralt’s knack for recruitment. Any further large-scale jobs would have to wait.

Margrave Gautier had _seemed_ to accept that easily and readily enough, though she had the feeling he had marked her for something more. Perhaps she ought simply be glad he’d set aside whatever reservations he may have had that only the Ashen Demon, and not the Blade Breaker, had answered his call to thwart whatever plot Miklan had been raising an army of thieves for, before it was enacted.

“ _His own son…”_ Sothis mused in her mind _“I cannot imagine what sort of madness would draw families apart like that. Kin should stand together… I wonder what became of my own family, I must have had one…”_

Byleth’s face remained set as she strode back to the camp, but internally she sent Sothis a wave of _understanding_.

She missed her father too.

~o~*~o~

It was harsh. Calculated. Efficient. Multifaceted; beautiful and _cruel._

When Hubert learned of it, if he hadn’t somehow already, he would approve -though grudgingly.

Sending the Blue Lions to help supress Lonato’s rebellion was a masterstroke on the part of the Church. Even if they would only be joining the rearguard and not facing the Lord themselves. Edelgard couldn’t help but admire it, although her stomach turned at the thought that she may one day have to employ such tactics of her own; to use her allies so ruthlessly that they would fear to turn against her. She would do it of course, if she had to. And she could acknowledge that it took a formidable will to issue such an order without flinching.

For all his sternness and fastidiousness, Seteth was well meaning, with a soft touch for those under his purview. She had enough of a read on him to be fairly certain he would have advised against this course. Sent the Eagles or the Deer (or no students at all, if he could manage it) to this particular battle. It was kindness he hid under his brusque manner; it may prove his undoing.

No, the Archbishop’s advisor had no hand for cruelty, this assignment was all Rhea.

Immaculate.

~o~*~o~

It was troubling to say the least –that so soon into the year he, they, would be exposed to his failures, his Uncle’s failures. None of the Blue Lions would be surprised by the state of the Kingdom, not with Uncle Rufus spending his days philandering worse than Sylvain; but open rebellion against the Church? A fracturing between the Central Church and the Western; in the _Holy Kingdom_? Even his Uncle, dissolute though he was, must have noticed that, _must_ have made _some_ effort at mediation –how had it grown to this stage so quickly? What was fuelling it? 

If he could only have taken the throne already, then perhaps he might have stopped whatever mad crusade Lonato was driven on before it reached this point.

Ashe lingered in the cathedral, and Dimitri was glad that Mercedes did too –he certainly had no answers to offer the boy. And less by way of comfort. Even Cassandra’s –Catherine’s presence was not as reassuring as could have been hoped. Almost the reverse.

The whole class was quiet in the weeks leading up to the mission. Grimly focused on learning how best to fight and kill, under Hanneman’s solemn instruction.

Grimly hoping that perhaps, this time, they would not have to.

~o~*~o~

So of course they did.

Thunderbrand burned strange trails into the mist as Catherine fought apart from them, making herself a target. A will-o-wisp actively hunting those lost in the fog. But the light of it didn’t cut the gloom for those further back.

The enemy rushed them, focusing on the few torchbearers –the obvious targets, lit up as they were. Dimitri jumped to Annette’s defence as an axeman came bursting out into the open, charging towards her; swept at his feet and pierced his side in a flash.

It was only as the man slid, gasping, off the lance that Dimitri realised he was militia.

Little more than civilian.

How many of the voices in the gloom were people caught up in the tide, hoping only to defend their lord?

_His_ people. _His people_ and he –he had done this before. Had earned a _distinction_ for putting down a rebellion like this. For cutting through people with no chance of withstanding his strength and training. _His people_ , who were not being properly attended to in his Uncle’s regency. _His people,_ and by his own hand their voices joined the dead chorus that called for justice.

“Your Highness!” Dedue called, stepping in to deflect an arrow that might have taken him through the eye in his abstraction. Dimitri pushed his doubts aside for the time being and advanced once more, focusing only on the blood-rush of battle. A slash across the neck and the axeman on the ground was put out of his misery. 

Annette pressed forward and the fog closed in behind them, shrouding the trail of corpses left in his wake. An axe, a sword, a bow; it made no difference, he killed them all even as he grieved for them. Soldier or civilian.

Somewhere off to his side Felix let out a yell. There was a wet gurgle and the sound of another body hitting the earth. A moment later the fog cleared.

Lonato was before them. If he would retreat, if he would surrender, then they could stop this madness without further bloodshed! If he fell, then at least –at least it would be finished.

Lord Lonato was not interested in parley so long as Thunder Catherine stood on the field.

Professor Hanneman called out, instructing the lances up front –effective anti-cavalry tactics. Dimitri took point with Ingrid and Sylvain rallying round to flank him.

Ashe got there first.

~o~*~o~

Byleth and Sanderson observed the town from a vantage point halfway up a neighbouring hill. “What do you think, Ashen One?” Sanderson asked, sprawling across the grass, propped up by one arm, waving the other hand airily at the buildings below “Shall the boys and I kick back while you go to town? Probably only take you half a day to bring the curtain down.”

Byleth shook her head “Too many strongholds.” She said, marking them with the precise care of someone using the wrong hand for the task on the map spread between them. “At least the civilians are hiding. We could have used a caster, through.” Idly she wondered what element(s) would answer her call if she ever learned to tap into the anima of the world surrounding her.

_“Fire, most certainly.”_ Sothis chimed.

“Well, I guess your dashing, loyal men will just _have_ to do the work then.” Sanderson continued “I do hope the Margrave is showing proper appreciation for our performance.”

“Finders keepers.” Byleth informed him

“Wait, really?” Sanderson sat up sharply.

“So long as you find it on a bandit. Plus our standard fee.”

“So, the issue is that lunk of armour on the south-side.” Sanderson insisted, suddenly all business and focused on the map. Eyes sharper than Byleth’s at a distance flicking between her notations and the town before them “And further over, that mage on the south-east. Nothing on the north side is any issue for us of course, so do we hit the challenge while we’re fresh or rout the north, then head down with our backs clear but probably banking on a second wind to finish the job?”

“Can you see any other entrances? We could take the south-west, but both north gates are pinned down.”

Sanderson scanned the town carefully “It looks like there might be a gate in the east wall. A garden gate or the like –single person type affair. Just at the boundary between those houses and the plaza. Not guarded.”

Byleth marked it on the map then studied it, considering their options.

“We’ll need to divide. A party to each side, sweep these three strongholds and herd the rest down to the armour. Regroup there for the last assault.”

“A dramatic climax to be sure. Difficult to coordinate that once we’re on opposite sides of the town though, Ashen One.”

“Difficult.” She agreed, calmly, standing and using her teeth to tug free the knot of her sling, stretching out her arm and swapping her sword back to its customary position “But we’re Jeralt’s.” 

It didn’t even register on the list of rousing speeches throughout the ages, but Sanderson grinned and felt himself buoyed along by her words nonetheless, even considering the dearth of them. Aura of confidence that one, he thought, solid, dependable; just like her Father.

~o~*~o~

Lonato was dead.

It had been Catherine in the end. The old Knight had been so keen on riding her down, no tactics Dimitri or Hanneman called out could have prevented him clearing them on his way to her.

It had been Catherine in the end. Thunderbrand arcing one more trail of light to end the battle.

But Ashe had still drawn arms against him.

He could still feel the bowstring tense against his fingers. The kiss of wind on his cheek as he’d loosed the shot. The stab of _guilt_ and _relief_ when it pinged off a pauldron and spun whirling uselessly down like a sycamore seed only to be crushed beneath the charge of hooves.

His knees had turned to jelly and he sunk to the ground, head bowed, unable to watch as it ended. He focused on a leaf on the road an inch or so ahead of him, counting the veins on it as the sounds of plate scraping and screams and mail clinking and hoofbeats echoed around him over the beating of his heart, the tightening of his throat, the numbness in his limbs.

Some indeterminable time later a hand clasped his shoulder and he at last looked up into the concerned eyes of his Prince.

“My siblings.” He whispered.

Dimitri’s hand tightened in an assuring grip. “We’ll go find them, together.”

Ashe nodded, looking down at that leaf for a moment more.

Then he climbed to his feet.

~o~*~o~

Effective, Edelgard thought once again as she observed the Blue Lions troop solemnly back into the monastery, turning to succour from the Church to ease their pain. The very Church that had set them to it in the first place.

Ashe’s head was bowed, Sylvain was silent, Ingrid walked with a hesitant step -even the sharp edges that usually defined Felix’s movements were softened.

Ruthless, beautiful, cruel.

Dimitri’s fists were clenched, his jaw tight, but even he bowed his royal head alongside Catherine and Professor Hanneman as Rhea greeted them.

Immaculate.


	4. They Conspire to Love You, Little Boss

Blue Sea Moon

People did not just carry secret notes around on their person. Especially when they weren’t written in code and especially when the person in question was a leader or politician –or heading into battle.

Claude did not buy it for a second. They were _supposed_ to find that note, they were _supposed_ to think there’d be an attack on Rhea during the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth Ceremony.

And perhaps there _would_ be. But that was not _all_ that would happen. It had “big flashy distraction” written all over it.

Claude would know.

With a threat to Rhea on the cards, Catherine was far from approachable, and the Blue Lions had all rallied round Ashe and each other. Which was fair enough (Claude tried to imagine what he’d do if called upon to fight at Fódlan’s Locket while he was attending the academy, and that was a whole complicated mess of _secret_ , honour, a thrilling challenge, worry for the Deer, _secret!, _please- **don’t** -let-it-be-Nader and please- **let-it** -be-Nader-and-not-anyone-who-genuinely- _wanted_ -him-dead, that he had no idea how even start to untangle) but it did mean there was little opportunity to pry any details out of them; like why Lonato had been the sacrificial messenger, or what else the Western Church (almost certainly the culprits –or a faction of them) could stand to gain other than authority over the Central Church –or perhaps autonomy from it.

The Golden Deer would just have to figure it out for themselves.

~o~*~o~

Back on the job for less than three moons and already someone was threatening Rhea. It was laughable how much drama hinged on Garreg Mach.

It was further laughable that common sense went out the window where the Archbishop’s protection was concerned. The merest suggestion of a threat and the Cardinals _all, unanimously_ , insisted that the Knights had nothing better to do than stand around the Goddess Tower during the ceremony. Never mind the legion of pilgrims that would arrive to honour it, or for the opportunity to visit the Holy Mausoleum. Jeralt had protested, but only so there would be a record that he _had_. He’d been round this road too many times in the past to expect the higher-ups to listen to anything as mundane as _reason_.

It seemed like the only person with any sense was the Riegan kid, and wasn’t _that_ alarming. He was the worst parts of Lady Riegan and Lady Daphnel all over again (Jeralt had heard all the rumours, knew that the general populace thought the brat was some by-blow of the late Duke, dug out and legitimized by his grandfather when the succession was in danger of failing, but Gloucester would certainly have made a ruckus over that, to sink House Riegan’s credibility if nothing else. Moreover, the boy sure hadn’t inherited that cocksure smile from Lord Godfrey) and subtler than the Ladies had ever managed to be when it had been their turn to terrorise the Monastery.

A dangerous person to leave unchecked, but at least he was on the right track. So Jeralt turned a blind eye.

Who knew? Perhaps the brat would knock loose something he could use. Just now he would take whatever leverage he could get; Byleth would be here soon and he would do all he could to keep her from Rhea’s web of intrigue.

~o~*~o~

They’d taken most of the previous moon just to track the thieves, marking the towns where they made their hideouts and biding their time while the wounds from Conand Tower healed; the swelling to Byleth’s shoulder and a couple of other cuts and gashes amongst the company. Wounds worth resting for, but not presenting the sort of immediate danger that would justify dipping into their supply of vulneraries, or seeking out a cleric or doctor when time would do the job just as well.

With the rise of the Blue Sea Star, they’d made their move on the main stronghold; the town where the majority of the thieves and bandits had gathered. The group had been fracturing without Miklan’s leadership pulling them together, the majority of them out for only themselves, making off with what they could instead of working together. But those who _had_ fought alongside their comrades had done so desperately, and the troop had sustained enough wounds that Byleth sought out the local cleric before they’d finished wiping the blood from their blades. Raoul had a new scar that he was disproportionately proud of and one of the men had taken a magical burn which would take a long time to heal naturally, so she had paid the fee to have _everyone_ looked over and brought up to peak condition.

That, and the Margrave’s edict that they could keep what they found on the thieves, went some way to motivating the troop to finishing the job, as did the fact that the next two towns they’d cleared could better be considered duels than skirmishes. The men were in good spirits, and cheered when she announced that it was finally time to collect their pay, take their leave of Margrave Gautier and return to the Blade Breaker. Something akin to accomplishment coiled within her at their cheer and her eyes were soft, even if the rest of her wasn’t.

“It’s a good haul, Little Boss.” Willard said as he shouldered his own pack and the majority of what they’d claimed in spoils “Some good stories to tell the Boss an’ all. Reckon ‘e’ll be right proud.”

“I hope so.” Byleth agreed with a nod as she automatically tightened a loose strap for him “You’ve all done well.” Not expecting a response, she turned to check the rest of the company was ready to march.

She missed the approving look he gave her, and the glance he sent round to see that the rest of the men agreed; she might not lead the revelry in whatever tavern they stopped at like the Blade Breaker would –but honestly, who could? There were at least eight years between her and the youngest of the rest of them, but not a man amongst them would defy her orders. The Little Boss took care of them, and they’d happily follow her.

~o~*~o~

Professor Manuela was clearly sceptical, she stood at the head of the classroom, arms folded, listening with a raised eyebrow as Claude explained his rational –not all of it, he left out the part where he doubted Rhea was actually in danger and that the mausoleum was probably the main target of any threat. Manuela seemed more devoted to the _Goddess_ than the _Church_ , and therefore the _Archbishop,_ but better to play it safe in this case.

“I understand the significance of course, but there’s nothing of real interest there. I went the first year I came here, and haven’t been back; you can only look at dusty old tombs for so long. But…” she hesitated, considering them, then dropped her arms and sighed “Well, we have to patrol _somewhere_ , and there _are_ likely to be more people in the area than usual. Very well, Golden Deer. We’ll meet up in the cathedral tomorrow morning.”

~o~*~o~

Hilda rather despised it when Claude was right. When Claude was right, inevitably she had to work, _had to_. And the house leader had hit the bullseye with this one.

Yes, she may have been standing at the back, but _someone_ had to get the pilgrims and worshipers out of there! The floor near the entrance was slick with the blood of those who’d been cut down as the Western Church arrived. Hilda did her best to ignore it as she got the last of them out, sending them scurrying up the stairs to alert Captain Jeralt or Alois or _anyone_ to come and reinforce them –at this point she’d even be glad to see _Seteth_. 

Reinforcements arrived; but they weren’t on her side.

“You’re making me work! On a _festival_ _day!_ ”

~o~*~o~

The students are not prey, **he** reminded **him** self, the Emperor would provide **him** prey later. Just now **he** need only supervise and report.

… none of them were _worthy_ prey anyway.

~o~*~o~

Claude was not surprised that he was right, although perhaps he could have better anticipated _how_ right he’d end up being.

The conditions weren’t great. The Holy Mausoleum had a marble floor, and in preparation for the day it had been cleaned to a polish so high you could slip just looking at it. Some bright spark had then had the genius idea to put candles around the coffins set about the room.

Candles at ground level. On a reflective surface.

You couldn’t look _anywhere_ without being a bit dazzled. 

And at the centre of the room that dark rider, the Death Knight, loomed over all. It was a struggle to remind himself _not_ to focus on the Knight, that the real threat, for the time being, was whatever was being unsealed at the back of the room, but the dark horse and strange horned helm drew the eye and chilled the blood.

Claude threw himself into the air to dodge a sword that had gotten far too close. His counter-fire missed and he frowned as he skidded back on landing, expression morphing into surprise as he kept going, candles scattering around him as he tried to stop without falling over. He came to a rest against one of the stone biers and quickly rolled backwards over it, quiver pressing painfully against his back, but at least putting a barrier between himself and his assailant.

And then in a moment of inspired genius (or sacrilege if you asked Lorenz, and when he heard about it later Lindhart had looked at him in mounting horror) he jumped back up onto the stonework and took off running along the sarcophagus, leaping the divide to the next and landing cleanly. He murmured a thanks to the Saint he was presently standing on (Macuil, by the crest) and fired off a couple of shots, _finally_ advancing up the room.

~o~*~o~

He didn’t understand how the body of Saint Seiros would help them overthrow the Apostate Archbishop, the evil woman who twisted the word of the Goddess; it was enough that it _would_.

He didn’t understand where his gift for ward-breaking came from, magical formulas simply resolved themselves in his head; it was enough that he could be useful with it.

He didn’t understand, why _this_ ward was so much more complex than the others he’d had to breech to get them into the Monastery undetected; it seemed perverse to place more protections on the dead than the living.

He didn’t understand, when he finally broke it, why there was no body; only a strange unwieldy sword.

He didn’t understand why an arrowhead had suddenly sprouted from his chest, he –oh… no. That he understood.

~o~*~o~

“That sword…” the Death Knight spoke, voice sepulchral and echoing through his helm. Claude _flinched_ as Knight’s full attention came to bear on him “I see… it is already dead… There is no prey for me here.”

The harsh static taste of magic filled the air as the Death Knight vanished, then Catherine swept into the room.

“Oh,” Hilda started, leaning heavily against her axe “ **now** you show up.”

~o~*~o~

“It will not surprise you to learn that the Crest Stone had been removed.” The Flame Emperor said to their companion “The Riegan heir returned the sword to the Archbishop, with some reservation I might add. I know not where they’ve hidden it.”

“Well, it would have been of no use without the stone anyway. I doubt _that_ one is kept with the others. We know now that the sword is within the Monastery at least.”

“As to your request, I cannot agree. The Death Knight is no longer in a position where he can easily move. Should he be exposed, my own cover-”

“I would expect that two overworked Professors or a string of guest lecturers would rather strengthen your cover than harm it.”

“…Perhaps.”

“We would, of course, take every precaution not to expose him. However, without the body of Seiros we must proceed with the half-breed.”

“Must?”

“Your forces may rival the other nations, but you know what monsters the Church hides.”

“…So be it. I shall give the order. Use him well.”

~o~*~o~

The Margrave’s last task wasn’t anything arduous. If he hadn’t offered she wouldn’t even have charged for the service, but he’d put the small purse down upon the desk for her along with the rest of their payment almost without thought and Byleth knew better than to turn down good coin.

They were heading to Garreg Mach anyway. Delivering a letter would be no trouble at all.


	5. The Truest Thing He Knows

Verdant Rain Moon

The Sword of the Creator. He had held the thrice-damned _Sword of the Creator_ in his hands and it had been no more than an unwieldy paperweight. The Crest Stone had been missing –but even so Claude had felt no resonance, no connection with the blade at all.

After the roundtable he’d been summoned to, he allowed Judith to guide him back to the Riegan estate. To update the old man, she thought -and so he did, but he also visited the armoury. Failnaught had thrummed to life beneath his hand, the latent power of his Crest tingling through him.

Curse these Relics and their finicky requirements! It was the Sword of the Creator that could cleave a mountain, if he could only-

-Okay, _fine_ , so maybe **literally** cutting a mountain in half wasn’t the _best_ way to achieve his dream, but _having_ that power on his side… No, better to leave that thought behind for now; the plan didn’t really change, he would continue to research, gather capable allies, charm and wheedle his way into a position where he could start _affecting_ things… It would probably just take a couple more years than he would have preferred, that was all. 

With that he sighed and let the tension drain from him; the Relics, the Western Church executions, the roundtable -all expelled from his thoughts. His borrowed horse snorted in appreciation and he leaned forward to pat her neck just as the monastery came into view. “Almost there, girl, sorry for being such a burden to you.”

With home and a comfy stable and fresh round of hay in view he let the mare have her head and was soon clattering into the marketplace and handing the reins over to one of the squires loitering round the armourer.

And then it seemed the gods of fortune took pity on him once again and he started up the steps at a sprint.

“Hey!” He called “Hey, you –” Blast what was her name? “Miss Eisner!”

The mercenary looked round from where she’d been conversing with the gatekeeper, but made no other motion or act of recognition, which was disheartening; _he_ thought he was worth remembering at least.

“Do you know this person, Master Riegan?” he _tried_ not to frown at the title, he really did, it wasn’t the Gatekeeper’s fault he was required to use the same address Count Gloucester had spent a whole day sneering at him, and he was sure the man was friendly enough. Even so the smile Claude found himself replying with was several degrees faker than usual, even by his standard.

“Of course I do! This is Captain Jeralt’s daughter, the renowned mercenary who saved us at the start of the year.” He winked at them “Much prettier than the Captain though, don’t you think?”

Huh. Not even the faintest hint of a blush. Well, such comparisons were probably commonplace, he’d have to try harder.

“Well, if Master Riegan will vouch for you then I can let you in. He’ll have to stay with you though, until you leave. We’re being more cautious while the investigation into the Western Church is ongoing.”

“Do you have time?” she asked him politely “I have a message to deliver.”

“For you? Certainly.” Byleth! That was it, Byleth Eisner. “Don’t worry,” he added to the Gatekeeper “I’ll keep both eyes on her.” That would certainly be no hardship.

With that he stepped into the entrance hall, but Byleth lingered a pace behind “When will my Father return?”

“We expect him tomorrow, or no later than the day after.” The Gatekeeper answered “I’ll let him know you’re in town the moment I see him.” She nodded her acknowledgement briefly then quickly caught up to Claude.

“So, where to?” He asked as they paced further into the entranceway “The Monastery is pretty big, most of the faculty offices are on the second floor though, unless it’s a knight you’re looking for?”

“No, a student. Gautier.”

“Sylvain? You’ve not been hired as a courier for his love letters have you? Because, I should warn you, whatever he’s paying you, you need to triple it.”

“No, nothing like that.” She answered, and didn’t smile or smirk or even roll her eyes at him just a little. Completely composed and… impassive.

“Well, unless they’ve changed the schedule around too much while I was gone, the Blue Lions should have the training grounds just now. We can start there.” She simply nodded once more and Claude floundered.

Exceptionally talented she was. Exceptional conversationalist she was not. 

“So, did you just get here? It’s been quite a while since we first met, must have been a pretty big job to keep you from joining your father for so long?”

“There was some challenge.” She admitted and then, mercifully, after a beat glanced directly at him and asked; “And you? You’ve been away?” 

“Just some minor business in the Alliance, it’s a bit of a pain, but I had to stand in for my Grandfather. Wrangling stuffy Nobles into agreement, keeping them from squabbling like children, that sort of thing.”

She nodded once more and he let them lapse into silence this time. It wasn’t uncomfortable _per se_ but… well he’d never had so little success in getting a conversation rolling before. What an interesting person.

~o~*~o~

Her guide (warden, she corrected herself before Sothis could; she was under watch here) pulled the heavy doors of the training grounds open just enough for them to slip through without causing a distraction for those inside.

Byleth scanned the space in appreciation. High walls to prevent stray arrows from ruining someone’s day, stone pillars supporting an overhang ringing the room (courtyard, really, with the rest of it open to the sky like that) provided a convenient barrier so one could traverse to the other side without crossing the central space, archery targets and several racks for training weapons were lined up at the back along with some tiered benches for observers or those who needed a brief respite. One entrance, so there was little chance of someone stumbling into a duel accidently –sheltered and secure, it was a good place for training.

The central space itself was large enough for several pairs to spar in –as was currently being demonstrated. She recognised the boy with the blue cape as Dimitri, one of the others from Remire, before her eyes fixed on a head of red hair.

_“There is a strong family resemblance.”_ Sothis commented _“Both with his father and…”_ Byleth gave her the mental equivalent of a nod as she trailed off.

“Who is in charge?” she asked her companion quietly, turning just in time to see his expression switch from scrutiny to that striking smile she’d marked at their first meeting. 

“Professor Hanneman.” he answered, nodding over to the side where a man stood in the shade of one of the pillars “Tall, distinguished gent with the monocle.”

Keeping to the shadow of the pillars they made their way round to the Professor. He noted their approach and turned slightly, half towards them, still keeping his students in view.

“Pardon the interruption, Professor.” Byleth began with a short bow, “Missive for Gautier.”

Hanneman’s eye flicked from her to her warden (standing a pace behind her, hands linked behind his head and that charming smile spread indolently across his face) and back “Just a moment then, if you please, young lady.” He turned his attention back to his students, watching them play their matches back-and-forth for a little longer.

“Hold!” He called out shortly “Water break, ten minutes. Sylvain, you are requested.”

“Oh, it’s you!” A familiar voice called and the boy in blue came striding forward ahead of the rest of the class “Please –you must pardon me. It has been troubling me for some time that we were not properly introduced at our last meeting.” He reached forward and took her hand, bowing over it with all the grace of someone born to the highest levels of society. “Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of Faerghus, at your service. Do let me thank you for your timely rescue, although” he added ruefully “I’m sure Claude will have extended thanks on all of our behalves already.”

“You know; I may have skipped that step earlier. In fact, _all_ of those steps. Terribly shocking, your Highness, to expose my poor manners like that. But I suppose it can’t be helped.” Claude answered and came forward from behind her with an exaggerated wink to offer his own bow “Claude von Riegan, heir of the leading house of the Leicester Alliance and all that nonsense. Eternally indebted to you and so on. I think that about covers it, right?”

“ _Claude_ ” Dimitri began, but was cut off before he could begin whatever chastisement was forthcoming

“Hey now, I enjoy a little competition as much as the next man, but the lovely lady was clearly looking for me.” The newcomer pushed between them, catching the hand Dimitri was forced to drop and bringing it to his lips to place a kiss against her fingers. Somewhere in the background, one of the girls gave a groan of exasperation, echoed in her head by the feeling of Sothis rolling her eyes “Sylvain Jose Gautier, how may I be of service to you Miss…?” 

“Byleth Eisner,” she admitted, marking but otherwise disregarding the way Professor Hanneman’s attention sharpened on her. She retrieved her hand from Sylvain and used it to pull the scroll from one of the hidden pockets sewn into her sleeves. “letter for you.”

The atmosphere tensed as they all caught sight of the black ribbon binding it. Sylvain reached for it then hesitated, eyes flickering from her face to the scroll as if afraid it might bite him. “My parents?” he asked, fingertip just brushing the vellum.

It took Byleth a moment to understand the question, during which he grew pale “I only spoke with the Margrave, but there was no indication that the Countess was in anything less than perfect health.”

“R-right.” He agreed and at last took it from her “Professor Hanneman-”

“You are excused, Sylvain.” The Professor answered, not unkindly, before the question could even be asked. Sylvain nodded shakily and ran a hand through dishevelled hair as he stalked out of the training ground. 

A pair of cutting eyes suddenly appeared in front of her, but though Sothis was startled, Byleth met the sharp gaze evenly. “Who died?”

“ _Felix!_ ” the girl who had groaned and Prince Dimitri hissed in tandem, but the boy with the fierce glare waved them off without breaking eye contact, demanding a response with posture alone.

“Miklan Gautier.” Byleth answered calmly.

His gaze continued to bore into her for a moment longer before he acknowledged the answer “Hmph. Good.” He replied, before turning on his heel and making his way over to the rack of training weapons.

_“Well!”_ Exclaimed Sothis _“It seems it is possible to be less socially apt than you are!”_

~o~*~o~

“Wow.” Claude said, after he’d finally managed to extract them from Dimitri and Ingrid’s apologies on Felix’s behalf and pushed the door of the training ground closed behind them, leaning back against it “I wish I’d known what sort of a letter you were delivering before I agreed to this; I have a catastrophic allergy to bad news.”

She looked at him, but didn’t comment, and he felt that impassive silence weighing on him once more “That was a joke, you know. You’re supposed to laugh, or smile at least; I won’t even be offended if you’re laughing at _me_ given that it wasn’t especially funny.” 

Her head tipped a bit to one side, considering, before; “Sorry.” she offered.

Claude sighed, running a hand through his hair “Yeah, you’re right. Clearly I need to work on my repartee. It’s usually such a talent of mine too. Oh well.” He pushed himself off the door and bounded forward, winking at her “May I treat you to an early dinner, O Saviour Mine? Or do you have yet more gloomy missives to hand out to the unfortunate?”

“I should return to the troop…” she began. Claude had the feeling that she had meant to end that statement with the same decisive delivery he’d heard from her all afternoon, but something made her consider and after a beat she added; “before they get into trouble.” 

Was that an attempt at congeniality? So she wasn’t completely impassive! Somehow this little nugget of information felt like a victory and he spread his arm gesturing for her to walk with him as he directed them on the slightly more leisurely walk past the dormitories and greenhouse.

“Ah, yes, a contingent of trained and deadly mercenaries running around unsupervised at the foot of Garreg Mach. I can see why you’d be concerned.” 

“Just so.” She agreed and there was _something_ in the tilt of her brow and the rounding of her eyes that suggested to him that she was amused.

Not such a closed book after all; just extraordinarily tiny print.

In cursive.

On pages almost the same shade as the ink.

Well, there was no mystery worth solving that didn’t involve _some_ effort.

~o~*~o~

After extensive (and _unsupervised_ ) research, the troop had declared that the Prancing Pegasus was the worst of the two pubs that served the villages at the base of Garreg Mach, and the surrounding homesteads of the Oghma foothills.

By that they meant that it was the more expensive. And that the publican was a hulking figure of a man who _would_ come after you for damages, if you happened to drop a mug or a plate. And that yes, she _had_ left her contingent of trained and deadly mercenaries unsupervised for too long.

Byleth rather liked the Pegasus. It was quiet, the floor didn’t stick and you could see all corners of the main room uninterrupted; no-one could hide around a strangely placed wall or chimney.

Moreover, some canny entrepreneur had, in ages long past, set up an agreement with the Monastery to buy out all the honey the monks could spare –the Monastery being home to several thriving apiaries working the year round to pollinate the orchards and greenhouses that sustained its population.

The owners of the Pegasus had therefore spent the past couple of centuries developing some of the finest meads in the land, handing down their recipes and techniques from generation to generation. Their honey-cakes were not to be sneered at either. Byleth’s sweet-tooth was more than satisfied.

Her first half-pint of their raspberry infused mead had disappeared at a rate that was, frankly, alarming. She called for another but before she could reach for it an arm draped round her shoulder and a familiar figure leaned across to pick the tankard up, quaffing it in three long gulps.

“That’s almost tolerable for something so sweet.” Jeralt said after a moment to consider

“You might like the mint variety.” She replied, signalling the barkeep for a round of each.

Her father settled onto the stool beside her “I take it the boys are over at the Bishop’s Regret?” he asked, naming the pub that the men _had_ taken to, sticky floors and all.

“You didn’t check there first?”

“I was looking for _you_ , Kid.”

Byleth gave no more reaction than a tip of the head, but a feeling of pleased contentment, like a cat stretching out then curling up in the sun, eased through her, a hum of amusement from Sothis accompanying it. “If they’re not still asleep.”

Jeralt chucked “Fair enough. Everyone in one piece?”

Around sips of mead, and internal commentary from Sothis, she caught him up on the work over the past couple of moons, her tactics and decisions, the slight reduction to the company, ending with her brief visit to Garreg Mach the day before.

“You’ve done good, Kid.” He praised and Sothis laughed at the pleasure that bubbled up inside her.

_“You are so easily pleased! Your efforts are deserving of more praise than that, and yet… well I suppose the source is what makes it special.”_

“So, then” Jeralt continued “what will you do now?”

“What do you mean?”

Jeralt hesitated, tapping the bar with a finger as he considered his words “When I left the Knights… Well, it was a hectic time; you could say that I was _allowed_ to leave, whether that was grace or because no-one could be spared to stop me is still up for debate. Suffice it to say, now that I’m back it wouldn’t be so easy to head off again. Though, there are advantages to keeping my hand in…” He took a gulp of his mead and Byleth matched him, watching his profile carefully “Point being, I’m stuck here for the foreseeable. You however, have a choice.”

He spun in his seat to face her, one elbow leaning on the counter. Sensing his seriousness, Byleth took a quick glug and twisted round herself to meet his eyes full on.

“You have the renown and the authority to step up and lead the company permanently, they’ll all follow you readily enough and the ‘Ashen Demon’ has a reputation for efficiency that’ll get you hired wherever you like. You can take yourself on the road –plenty of merchants wanting an escort along Magdred at this time of year- **or** you could sign up at the guild topside” said with a jerk of his head over his shoulder in the direction of the monastery “and see what work the Church throws you. More money on the road –more _choice_ , you’d pretty much have to accept whatever directive the Church gives out, but they’d never see you or the boys shy of a bed or a meal either.”

Byleth paused before answering, the very slightest furrow in her brow the only indication of her consternation at being presented such a choice

“I would… stay by you.” She answered at last, her Father’s presence, or lack thereof, really being the main consideration in either option.

A series of complicated expressions passed over Jeralt’s face, but settled at last with his mouth quirked up in a grin and sheer _fondness_ in his eyes “Is that so?” He took a swallow from his tankard then tipped his head back to drain the last, thumping it down on the bar with a satisfying _thunk_ “Well, let’s get to it then.” 

~o~*~o~

They stopped by the Bishop’s Regret first to inform the men and give them the option to stay or go. Much like Byleth, everyone chose to remain with the Blade Breaker, even if they were technically no longer lead by him. Jeralt downed a mug of ale in tribute to them and told them all they’d be back once accommodations were sorted, so not to get _too_ soused.

Not yet at any rate.

They cheered at that.

When they reached the market at the monastery, Jeralt collected a considerable packet of papers from the Guildmaster and used them to gesture further into the keep as they strolled forward.

“Probably best we go over these in my office. How much of the monastery did you see yesterday?”

“We looped from here to the training grounds then the pond, past the dining hall.”

“Well, apart from what’s on the second floor the only other place you might need is the Knight’s Hall. I’ll take you by once we’re done. I don’t think we need anything else here –oh, no, one more thing.” Jeralt gestured the Gatekeeper over “You, boy, what was your name again?”

“Gates Sir, Anthony Gates.”

Jeralt made to continue then stopped “…Gates the Gatekeeper?”

“Commander Rangeld has a sense of humour, Sir.”

“Well I suppose you could call it that.” Jeralt said with a sigh “Anyway, this is my daughter, Byleth Eisner, who’ll be leading the troop I was telling you all about. You can add her to the list of verified people –access at all hours, even if I’m not present.”

“Yes Sir! And it’s nice to formally meet you Ma’am.” 

“And you.” Byleth returned.

“Right then, my office, second floor. C’mon, Kid.”

Familiar enough with the first part of the route, Byleth glanced at her father as they strode through the entrance hall.

“You told them about us?”

“What?” Jeralt asked “Even if you didn’t stick around, were you never going to visit your Old Man again?” Byleth said nothing, but in the next moment she was walking half a pace closer to his side, sleeves _just_ brushing against each other. Jeralt, long used to her mannerisms, grinned but didn’t comment on it.

A quick rundown of the rooms and offices on the second floor followed, and Byleth looked round curiously as they moved into the Captain’s office. It was fairly hospitable as far as the offices and studies she’d seen before went, a significant portion of it given over to a pair of sofas sandwiching a tea table. Jeralt made straight for the sizable desk and pulled a chair round for her so they could sit kitty-cornered and go through the paperwork together.

“Fairly standard.” Jeralt mused “The stipend for repairs is better than I remember it being…”

“What’s this one?” Byleth asked looking at a sheet that listed additional duties and the potential recompense “Academy Battalion?” 

“Ah, extra money to let the brats from the Officer’s Academy order you about a bit instead of the Knights. Usually I wouldn’t recommend it as it keeps you anchored pretty tightly here and the further afield you’re willing to go, the more the Church will stump up. _But_ this year there are enough big names in attendance that it may be worth it, just for the connections. Thankfully that’s one you can opt in or out of as the moon changes.”

Byleth considered for a moment then initialled the box marking them “in”. Probably best to stay close for a while to get their feet under them in this new system, before being sent across creation. Then there were more initials and signatures to be marked as she listed the names of the men and noted herself as commander –a position that amounted to both point of contact and whipping-boy, as she’d be held responsible for the company’s conduct. The majority of the pages thereafter amounted to a treatise on what “appropriate conduct” was.

“I see Seteth’s had a hand in this. Probably he’ll need to sign it off too -prepare yourself for that.” Jeralt bemoaned, as he reached that section and opened a draw in his desk to offer her the flask he pulled from it. Byleth pointed to the page he had in front of him (Item five: Alcohol) and he shot her a withering stare in response.

~o~*~o~

Edelgard was surprised when she gained the top of the stairs to almost run in to the mercenary from Remire. She shouldn’t have been. She had marked Byleth Eisner as someone worth cultivating, she should have been prepared for her eventual return –the stress of her double life coupled with the additional work that went in to supporting Jeritza must be taking more of a toll than she had realised.

“Captain, hello. Miss Eisner it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust you have been well?”

“Thank you; yes.”

Though the reply was short, and Byleth’s face still impassive, years of court etiquette and polish made it impossible for Edelgard to falter in such an interaction and she moved aside slightly to allow her shadow to step forward. “This is Hubert von Vestra, one of the Empire’s brightest. Hubert, Miss Byleth Eisner is the mercenary I told you about -from Remire.”

Hubert bowed, only a fraction higher than he would have bowed to herself “You saved Lady Edelgard, and for that, you have my deepest gratitude.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

Straightforward. Simple acceptance. No misplaced modesty or brushing the compliment aside, no dismissive “it was nothing”. Easy sincerity, for all that it was delivered flatly, without any of the facial ques one might have expected. Her stance remained loose and neutral; at ease but prepared. Edelgard’s second evaluation of her matched the first; this was a woman of capability.

“Are you in the Monastery long? I would like the opportunity to thank you properly. Tea, perhaps?”

“I’m signing the company up with the guild presently, I expect we’ll be here some time.”

“Indeed? Well then, maybe we will have the opportunity to work together. I shall look forward to it.”

They stepped around each other, with all the appropriate courtesies and inclinations, Captain Jeralt going so far as to mumble “Lady Hresvelg” as they passed. Edelgard paused as they vanished down the stairs and Hubert moved in close to speak in her ear;

“That is an impressive mask. I wonder what it would take to get under it?”

“Take caution when you try. She is exceptional –I prefer her alive and allied, if possible.”

“Of course, Lady Edelgard.”

~o~*~o~

“What’d I tell you, Kid; _connections_.” Jeralt said when they reached the reception hall, directing her through it to the exit closest to the Knight’s Hall. “As it happens, those three from Remire are the future heads of their countries, good people to make an impression on.” 

“I’ll bear it in mind.” Byleth assured as she examined the Knight’s Hall. A small space for training – enough for simple drills or perhaps one couple sparring, and an area for study or planning and strategizing towards the back. She rather expected it was the sort of space that might feel too small if an entire platoon were to gather for whatever reason, but small parties might find it more convenient than the training grounds.

As they left, Jeralt pointed out the path that lead to the majority of the Knight’s housing, and then hesitated. He looked at her for a long moment then let out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world with it “I think there’s one more stop we should make. This way.”

He turned and followed the pathway in the opposite direction from what she expected would lead them back to the market. A pang of curiosity echoed by Sothis rolled through her and she followed a pace behind until he descended a set of steps down into a graveyard, coming to a halt by one grave in a sunny patch, away from the walls that overlooked the area.

“Your Mother rests here” he began and Byleth’s eyes focused on the headstone as the rest of his words washed slowly over her.

_“So young...”_ Sothis mused sadly, as they read the dates 

“…someone you love, as well as I love her.”

Byleth watched as her father tucked the ring back into a pocket “How would I… know?” she asked softly.

“You will.” He answered and as she continued to look up at him, huffed and pulled her into his arms. “There aren’t words I can teach you to describe it, Kid. But it’s something like this.” He added, resting a hand on her head, tucking her in against his shoulder, the other arm was firmly secured around her back and she hesitantly lifted her own hands in response, unsure what to do with them.

The sunlight warmed her, and nothing but birdsong stirred the air. The scent of her father’s tunic (ale, soap and the oil he used to clean the mail underneath) was comforting, his embrace protective without being caging. Within his hold, standing at the grave of the Mother who’d been so happy at the mere _idea_ of meeting her, with Sothis present in her mind; quiet but _there_ , Byleth felt something inside herself… unlatch.

Her arms reached round and returned the hug.


	6. My Power, Gifted

Verdant Rain Moon

The first Sunday of the moon was often called “accounting day”, when bills were settled, allowances distributed, plans and contracts drawn up for the month ahead. So it went in Garreg Mach at any rate, with the exception of the larger items (staff/teacher’s salaries, the tea merchant’s bill) which were always dealt with as soon as the moon changed. 

Before the office had even opened for the day Dimitri and Edelgard regarded each other across the threshold. The very slightest narrowing of eyes confirmed that they had each arrived early for the same purpose. The competition had already begun.

Somewhere above them the bells tolled the hour. A moment later, the cleric whose duty it was to pass out the House Leader’s allowance, and various other sundry tasks relating to the specific finances of the Officer’s Academy (when Seteth was otherwise busy), opened the door.

They stepped past him immediately. Three ledgers and three bags of gold sat on the usual desk.

Dimitri scrawled his signature beneath that of the last moon, but shortened it down by using his first two initials instead of the full moniker. The purse that was bound with blue cord he looped over his belt and made it to the door-

“Ahem.”

-and gave Edelgard a tight smile as he held it open for her as courtesy dictated, before following on her heels.

Behind them, the purse tied closed with yellow cord remained unclaimed upon the desk.

There was no room to overtake on the stairs. And neither of them would openly run through the reception hall, so they walked practically shoulder to shoulder. Pacing each other, and all but nudging the other off balance.

They reached the entrance hall. With Dimitri’s stride it was easy to take the steps two at a time and he pulled ahead, bursting out into the light of the market place three paces ahead-

-in just enough time to see Claude clasping hands with the Guildmaster.

“No!” Edelgard cried, and rushed down to the market ahead of him, as if she’d somehow be able to strike the Golden Deer’s choices from the register. Dimitri, recognising a battle long since lost, leant on the stone balustrade that bracketed the steps as he gave in to a chuckle.

“Well, good morning your Royalnesses” Claude greeted brightly, spinning himself deftly aside as Edelgard snatched the list of battalions available for the month from the table. “Fancy seeing you here so early.”

Edelgard scanned through the register, finding as expected that Jeralt’s Mercenaries (contact: Byleth Eisner) had been signed up to the Golden Deer for the duration of the Verdant Rain Moon. She raised a brow at the Guildmaster;

“I was given to understand that you are not permitted to accept credit.”

“Paid in full.” The master replied, jingling the coin pouch at his belt. Edelgard turned her gimlet stare on Claude, who had joined Dimitri at the bottom of the balustrade.

“Your lack of faith is really hurtful, Princess.” Claude called out in protest, smiling widely “I’m at least trustworthy enough to forward a loan to **myself**. Anyone from Leicester will tell you; deals like that can’t be left waiting.”

Edelgard at last subsided and started flicking through the register for her own picks. It seemed Claude had had the decency (or more likely; valued his health highly enough) to not also snap up the units the other houses preferred to work with.

“Enjoy your advantage while you can.” Dimitri advised, at a normal volume “There will be retribution for this.”

“Why, Prince Dimitri, is that a threat? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“More of a warning.” Dimitri said, canting his head significantly in Edelgard’s direction. “I’m more likely to court the lady than undermine my rivals.” Unspoken, but clearly heard, was the implication that Edelgard would try both.

Claude clapped his shoulder in parting and winked as he began ascending the stairs “Ah, Dimitri; the trick is to make the lady court _you_.”

~o~*~o~

Claude was rather proud of the fact that his head had remained attached to his shoulders for eighteen years. Since coming to Fódlan, he’d begun entertaining the hope that he might reasonably make it past twenty without too much trouble; which was why he put some effort into convincing Professor Manuela that his idea to assign the new battalion to Leonie for the month was absolutely the best course of action. It was essential to his continued survival. 

Manuela had suggested that, as it was very unlikely that they would see combat in their mission this moon, they’d pick up a few training battles with the Knights of Seiros, and Claude had taken the chance to ask, in her professional experience, if that would make it a good opportunity to try some new configurations… and the rest was history.

Leonie would be thrilled (and a happy Leonie was less likely to jump on _every_ not-entirely-well-thought-out comment Lorenz made, which in turn made Lorenz less irritable and less likely to snipe at _him_ ) and he’d be close enough to Byleth to start figuring out what made her tick without overwhelming her, as Edelgard and Dimitri would undoubtedly manage –even after he’d so helpfully pointed out their complete lack to tact to them when they’d first met her.

In that one battle outside of Remire, the mercenary had reminded him so much of Judith that he’d almost asked if they were related before Edelgard pegged her for Jeralt’s kid. A person with all of the Hero of Daphnel’s command and skill -at such a young age already- but without the burden of loyalty to his Grandfather or her own house, or even the _Alliance_ … If he could sway her to his side…

Well, then that would be a significant mark in the “capable allies” part of his grand plan.

~o~*~o~

The billet they were assigned could almost have passed as a manse had it only a few rooms for utility besides sleep. Beyond the drawbridge of the main keep but still within the bounds that delineated it as _Monastery_ and not _town_ , the building was pleasingly constructed; an open and airy entrance way beneath a veranda that ran the front of the building, supported by stone columns reminiscent of the training grounds, led into a common area with a fireplace of some significance. The bedrooms were split over two levels, the men were lodged two to a room, but hers (upstairs with a somewhat uninspiring view of a thicket and the road leading back up to the monastery) was larger and doubled as a study –the perks of being both commander and the only female in residence, she supposed.

The troop was content. They had comfortable beds, space to train, easy access to the monastery (where the food was) and the town (where the drink was) and the promise of steady income. 

Byleth wasn’t _dis_ content, exactly, but she desired something more by way of activity beyond rote training and the pub while they were between assignments, so in her free time she set out for some exploration.

The rose garden was a pleasant surprise, as was the sauna –she had noted the steam when she had first approached the training grounds and was curious about the construction. She hadn’t the apparel to use it (yet) and view the inside, but noted with approval the intricate stained glass and the well filled with cool, clear drinking water just outside the door.

The bridge spanning the chasm from cloister to cathedral was a marvel, but it was the cathedral itself that enraptured Sothis.

Or rather, the music.

A choir was practising and at the girl’s insistence Byleth took a seat on a pew nearby and listened.

_“Is it not marvellous? Music stirs the soul in a way that no barrier of language or intellect can hinder. Even if you could not understand the lyrics, you would know the song’s intent. How I wish I could join in, will you not sing?”_

_“Can’t ReadUnderstand SquigglesLinesNotation. I KnowRemember some of the songs LoudBawdy the men sing in taverns, but this is… BeyondUnreachedExpertise.”_

_“Nonsense! If you hold the music I will have you reading it soon enough, although… perhaps it might be more fun to go to a tavern where a bard is playing and join in a reel! Yes, we must do that! Sing and dance until dawn –do not shake your head at me!”_

Despite, or perhaps _because_ _of_ , Sothis’s prodding, the tiniest hint of a smile blossomed on Byleth’s lips, and remained there as the harmonious voices of the choir swelled around her. 

~o~*~o~

Sothis was significantly less enamoured when the weekend arrived and the troop made their way out alongside the Golden Deer to a field nearby where a platoon of Knights awaited them for training manoeuvres.

 _“We are following children into battle? I… this is not the sort of activity I would have imagined a church condoning.”_

_“Mock battle. Training.”_

_“Yes! Training for actual battle. They are children! Leading us!”_

_“No more children than I am.”_ Byleth thought back at her, the image of her Mother’s gravestone hovering in her mind between them. 1139-1159, twenty years old. The same age Byleth was now, or even slightly younger, if the dates were to be believed. As far as she could tell the students were of age with her, give or take a few years. The difference between them was only in experience.

Sothis’s unease and discontent roiled through her _“I am… giving you my power.”_

 _“PardonWhatExplain?”_ Focusing on that calm place within her, the space between their souls, Byleth found herself standing before the familiar throne. Sothis was pacing back and forth in front of it, arms folded and a fearsome scowl on her face.

“I said I am giving you my power! The ability to turn back the hands of time, if only a few moments.”

“Thank you… why?”

Sothis rolled her eyes and continued her pacing “You _are_ better with battlefield tactics than I am. Given your profession if you had to be better than me at _something_ I suppose that would be the ideal. If we _must_ walk this path… well perhaps you can keep the little ones safe.”

“They won’t grow… won’t stop being little, if they don’t fail occasionally.”

“No,” Sothis agreed sadly, dropping her arms “but those failures need not be catastrophic.” 

A rush of energy passed through Byleth, and she was suddenly facing out at the world once more, but something new lingered in her bond with Sothis. She was very aware of each and every passing second.

~o~*~o~

The training battles against the Knights went about as well as Claude had expected them to. Jeralt’s Mercenaries added some much needed reliability to the Golden Deer’s ploys. His schemes, tempered by Manuela’s instruction, filtered down through Leonie and were executed with precision –a well-trained battalion, experienced and used to working together, made a huge difference.

But even as he admired their formation he thought it was a shame; Byleth was a good soldier, an excellent combatant, but most importantly she was an _astounding_ commander. _That_ was why he wanted her on his side –it was doubtless the same for Dimitri and Edelgard. He ought to be taking commands from her just now, not the other way round.

True to what he’d told Dimitri, he didn’t approach the mercenary directly, save for the initial introductions to the rest of the Golden Deer (Leonie was predictably ecstatic; not only did she get to work with Jeralt’s troop, but with his kid, who was clearly carrying on the family tradition of badass mercenary-ness. Lorenz was dismissive of the connection –rather proving that he had less discernment than Claude had thought- and Manuela made an entirely inappropriate comment about Jeralt that had _Hilda_ blushing, but left no mark on the Captain’s daughter). If he happened to catch her eye he’d throw her a wink and a grin of course, but otherwise he left her space to deal with Leonie’s enthusiasm. There were months left before graduation, plenty of time to build a steady rapport; starting with their mission.

Book binding was one of those specialist crafts that no-one thought of until you needed a hundred or so copies of several Church-approved textbooks on hand –and numerous reprints over the years for those that were damaged or lost, as tended to happen when teenagers were in charge of anything. Margrave Edmund had invested in the craft; from printing and typesetting through to binding –hand tooling the leather and stitching every cover to every book kept a significant portion of his territory’s families employed with work that could be done the year round and had the added benefit of improved literacy over the generations. When Godfrey Riegan had died, and Claude’s Grandfather had been forced to retake the reins of the Dukedom while grieving, Edmund had used the opportunity to strike a deal with the Kingdom; shipping from his own port directly to Fraldarius and thence to the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, avoiding Derdriu’s port fees and expanding his consumer base.

It was the shipping deal more than the books that had sparked Edmund’s rise in wealth and power, and Duke Riegan was still bitter about it (Although perhaps less so than Count Gloucester, who hadn’t benefited _at all_ by Godfrey’s demise, despite the expectations of many). But, that was the Alliance for you. Always looking for the next opportunity, the next opening, seeking ever more influence at the roundtable.

The icing on the cake for Edmund was having the Church collect their books themselves; the Church, naturally, sent students to do so. Books were _heavy_ and the land route to Garreg Mach was slow when you had a convoy of wagons to mind. Claude figured it was some sort of pre-emptive punishment on the faculty’s part; “we know you’re going to deface half of these books within a year, so you can collect them. And you’ll have to camp. And learn orienteering. And survive on rations. Good luck! Try not to kill each other!”

The trip out wasn’t so bad. The empty wagons moved fast and it was still exciting enough just to be _out_ of the Monastery for a bit, even if Manuela was still lecturing them as they walked. By day two of the return however, everyone was ready for some time alone. The only redeeming feature of the trip was that it hadn’t actually rained on them despite the dark storm clouds shadowing them.

Their last night on the road was in a clearing near the border of Riegan territory, close by Daphnel with the Oghma mountains already in view. The wagons drew up in a circle, and the Golden Deer had the privilege of setting up their tents and a central fire within the ring where they would be sheltered somewhat. The battalions they’d brought with them setting up smaller satellite camps around the perimeter. Claude was just bringing an extra stack of deadfall over to keep the fire going through the night when Manuela started calling them up to review if they’d finally managed to pitch their tents properly (Academy issue, no luxuries –even his was only differentiated by a stripe of yellow across the door flap) and came up short accounting for her star camper.

“Where is Leonie? –No, wait, don’t answer that.” She sighed “Stupid question, I know. Claude, be a dear and go fetch her will you?”

“Sure thing, Professor.” He replied and loped off into the forest in the direction Jeralt’s Mercenaries had set up in. Leonie wouldn’t be anywhere else if she could help it. He could _just_ make out the glimmer of their fire through the trees when he heard voices approaching

“…it’s not like I’m talking about a whole side of venison here, Demon.”

“Do you have a writ?”

“Just a couple of rabbits! C’mon we’ve been on dry bread and salted meat for _days._ ”

“Do you have a writ?”

“One pheasant! They’re stupid enough you could legitimately claim it walked into the fire by itself –I’ve seen it happen.”

“Do you have a writ?”

“Willard does.”

“Willard has a writ for Gloucester during the Red Wolf. We’re in Riegan, and the Horsebow Moon will rise next week. If any of the Duke’s numerous gamekeepers get wind of you poaching from the coveys they are no doubt tracking and fattening up, you will be hung -at best. This is Leicester, remember.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re travelling with the Golden Riegan kid, right? The Miracle Heir? He could just… hand wave any trouble away.” 

“Please explain the logic by which our employer would enable your stealing from his family?”

Claude stepped out from the shade of the tree he’d been hiding behind since he first caught the conversation “Actually that does sound like the kind of thing I might do. If a pheasant or three _did_ wander into your fire would you let me know? I’m rather partial to them.”

The unknown mercenary’s hand had twitched to his sword, but Byleth hadn’t reacted at all when he announced himself, continuing her measured pace on her patrol route until they’d drawn level with him. “Master Riegan, can we help you?”

“Ah, you can drop the whole “Master Riegan” thing to start; you did save my life after all. Just “Claude” is fine.”

“Master Claude, can we help you?”

Claude sighed “Not what I meant, but close enough. I’ve been sent to retrieve Leonie; I’m guessing she’s with you?”

Byleth nodded and then tipped her head at the other mercenary “Raoul will take you. I’ll finish this loop.” she added to the swordsman, then nodded her farewell and began that easy measured pace once more.

“Miss Leonie is over this way, your Lordship, Sir.” Claude rolled his eyes at the attempted formality but gestured for the mercenary to lead on. As they drew closer to the fire he caught sight of Leonie, sitting enraptured as one of the mercenaries paced before the fire weaving a story with theatrical flair, various other members of the company were scattered around, listening as they ate or worked on weapon maintenance.

“And so there he was, lance in one hand, bairn in the other, the fire closing in on all sides, the bridge collapsed! But did ole Jeralt panic…? Not one jot! As if the horse knew what he was thinking, it paced around, once! Twice! And then… charged and _flew_ across that bridge in one leap! Jeralt was clear and the bandits were snared in their own infernal trap!”

“That ain’t how that happened, _at all._ ” Another mercenary, sharing a seat on a log next to Leonie answered

“ _Here we go.”_ Claude’s guide, Raoul, muttered under his breath, then stalked across to take a seat on the opposite side of the fire. Claude paced forward to stand behind Leonie, who nodded at him, and listened in growing amusement as the two others bickered.

“’tis! Maybe I amended _some_ details, to make it flow better, but I assure you, Miss Leonie, it all happened.”

“Don’t you listen to a word of it, Miss Leonie, Sanderson weren’t even there.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t tell it best.”

“How long have you been with the company?” Leonie asked the storyteller

“Oh, seven years or so now. If you want the _really_ old stories better ask Willard there, he’s been with Jeralt –what is it, fifteen years?”

“Getting on that way.”

“So you knew Byleth when she was a kid?”

“The Little Boss? Aye, I knew ‘er afore she were the “Ashen Demon”, or even just the “Demon”. Back when she didn’t even reach my knee. An’ there she is now” he continued, as Byleth strode into the firelight “prettier and deadlier every year while I only grow more grey.”

“’Silver fox’ is the term for you, darling.” Sanderson objected with a roguish wink

“Y’wouldn’t think it to look at ‘im, Miss Leonie, but Sanders’s even older than I am.” Willard said in a stage whisper, leaning over towards Leonie “It’s the drink that does it, him and Jeralt both, _preserving_ them.” 

Sanderson produced a flask by some sleight of hand and took a hearty swallow “You’d be more than welcome to join us, Will. You young’uns as well, get some fire through you.” and he tossed the flask over towards them.

Byleth snatched it out of the air before Claude had the chance to catch it. 

“Please don’t intoxicate the students.”

“Ah, come on Ashen One, let them live a little. Miss Leonie can’t be any younger than you are.”

“Which is old enough to know better” Byleth answered, opening the flask and holding it away from herself when she got a whiff of the contents.

“But young enough to do it anyway?” Sanderson pressed.

Byleth met Sanderson’s gaze levelly and, maintaining eye contact all the while, slowly drew the flask up for a long draught. When she was done she capped it and tossed it in a high arc over to Raoul (away from himself and Leonie, Claude noted) who caught it and immediately took a swig, only to splutter comically

“Sweet mother of Seiros, Sanders! How the fuck did you get _that_ past the Archbishop’s watchdog?”

“Ways and means my young friend, ways and means.”

“By which he means it weren’t ever in the Monastery to begin with.” Willard continued in his stage whisper to Leonie. “That Seteth can smell “Indecorous Behaviour” fer miles.”

“Sad, but unfortunately true. So be a love, Raoul, and pass that round or finish it up, _I’m_ not going to be responsible for the Ashen One getting that lecture again, if we’re caught with it.”

“Thank you for your consideration.” Byleth said flatly and Sanderson swept into a bow, both arms extended dramatically. She then turned slightly to Claude with an eyebrow raised. He got the message and shot her a chagrined smile before clamping his hands down on Leonie’s shoulders

“And sadly, gentlemen, I’m going to have to steal Leonie away from you now. Professor Manuela insists on praising her skills in person.”

“You come by again when you get the chance Miss Leonie” Sanderson said, as she climbed to her feet and hopped over the log to join Claude. “It’s nice to have _someone_ around who appreciates my stories.”

“If you told ‘em proper we’d all appreciate ‘em.”

Claude shook his head at the bickering and sent Byleth a wink and two fingered salute as Leonie waved goodbye to the troop. She was practically skipping as they made their way back towards the central camp.

“Think you can get them again next moon, Claude?”

He should have been weighing the risk/reward of sniping the troop out from under Dimitri and Edelgard again, anticipating the plays they might use to take the advantage, deciding if antagonising them now would interfere with his plans later or be looked back on fondly as schoolyard antics. He should have been calculating the best path to Byleth’s loyalty (he was beginning to get the sense that she was more a _protector_ than a true blue in-it-for-the-money _mercenary_ ) if his plan of “slowly, slowly” needed amending or not.

Instead the thought that lingered in his mind was the picture Byleth had made in the firelight, nose wrinkled and eyes widened, blinking against the strength of Sanderson’s flask. Cute.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sanderson drinks Aquavit (Akvavit) if anyone's interested. Because he is insane.
> 
> Dear readers, I apologise for the gratuitous Leicester world-building. I wrote it and then I couldn't bring myself to cut it because of my ridiculous Golden Deer bias. I love my little fawns and all the crazies around them, so you get to read about politics between Edmund and Riegan :) 
> 
> Also, yes, pheasants are that stupid. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos, comments and subs! The UK officially went into lockdown last night, which honestly won't affect me too much, so I plan to continue entertaining you through all this weirdness. (Those of you whom I flatter myself are reading this in the future, COVID-19 is the issue of the day). Stay safe and look out for those around you!


	7. Wake Up! Wake Up! You Must Survive! Wake Up!

Horsebow Moon

The Battalion Guild didn’t open to the students with the Horsebow Moon. By the time accounting day came everyone was alert looking for Flayn.

“I don’t like it, Kid.” Jeralt told her at breakfast one morning before she set out for her assigned patrol through the town “I don’t like it at all. You’ve heard the rest of the reports, right?”

“Yes, the Guildmaster told me.” Byleth affirmed “Other people missing, patrols vanished, the Death Knight figure –he’s been seen at the Monastery before?”

“Part of the Western Church attack just before you arrived. I interviewed the students myself when this cropped up, but I don’t see how it could be connected, the Western Church have their hands tied.”

“Then he’s mercenary.” Byleth suggested “Working for someone else now.”

“Yes, but who? And what are they after? There’s too much going on here that I don’t have the answers for. If we don’t get a lead soon, I’ll have to send Knights down into Abyss and the trouble that’ll-” he cut off as Seteth passed through the dining hall, pale and harried, he looked like a strong breeze might knock him over “It’s difficult to watch.” Jeralt added, once he’d gone.

“Let’s find her quickly.” Byleth agreed, standing and picking up her tray to return

“Byleth.” At the sound of her name in that heavy tone, Byleth halted immediately and met her father’s eyes “If you know the reports then you’re already aware; the other missing people are all girls and the patrols that vanished aren’t lightweights either. I trust you to take care of yourself out there, but keep your check-ins, alright?” 

“Of course.” She agreed with a nod and then paused, head tilting in thought “Though, what if-”

“No.” Jeralt answered immediately “I know what you’re thinking, Kid, toyed with the idea myself, but it wouldn’t work –whole damn mountain knows we’re looking for Flayn, or will do shortly. Bait operations only work if you can be covert. If we’re going to find her, it’ll be the old fashioned way. Or maybe we’ll catch a lucky break.”

Byleth considered that then nodded and reached out a hand to take Jeralt’s tray as well, he passed it over and gave a wan smile as he readied himself to go their separate ways “Keep your guard up, Kid. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I get the chance.”

~o~*~o~

A couple of students with artistic leanings had drawn a stack of sketches showing Flayn’s portrait so the mercenaries who had never seen her would know whom they were looking for and could go door-to-door out to the nearby homesteads.

There was no trail, most of the people they asked hadn’t even known the girl existed. It seemed more and more likely that she was somewhere within the vast complex of the monastery or it’s darker underbelly.

_“So much trouble for one girl… Missions cancelled, all the student’s spare time devoted to the search. What makes this Flayn child more special than any of the other missing persons?”_ Sothis mused as Byleth checked in with the Guildmaster one evening –no searching could be done at night.

_“Happenstance”_ Byleth thought back at her. The Archbishop’s advisor was a man of significant power in Garreg Mach after all.

_“Perhaps. I would not be so quick to rule out other influence though, I have a feeling… well, it may be as you say, or it may not. We will just have to find her and uncover the truth.”_

Byleth agreed internally, then turned to dismiss her men for the evening. Tomorrow they’d been scheduled a late start, and though the mood was sombre, they were all, to a man, in need of a night of carousing “Back by one” was the only instruction she gave them, as they headed back down the path to town

_“Will you not join them?”_ Sothis prompted

“ _There won’t be any singing or reels tonight.”_

_“I –That is not, I- Hmph!”_

~o~*~o~

She didn’t “wait up” for her men as such, but she was in her bedroom/study at the desk overlooking the road as the first of them began to stagger back. She counted them in just as she counted the coins they weren’t likely to need for weapon repairs this moon, figuring if it would be best to put the extra towards new gear or stashed aside for rainy days.

_“You hoard enough as it is.”_ Sothis chided _“You have not even touched your share of the spoils from Gautier yet. Buy some new gear! Get a pretty dress! And by all means stop accounting. It is terribly dull.”_

_“Yet, necessary. These are company funds not MinePersonal. If I’m indisposed the ledgers must be AccurateCloseAs for Sanderson to pick up.”_

_“Oh very well. Yet, it seems as though you may need to set them aside for the moment, look there, I believe those two may require some help. Or rather a lot.”_

Right at the edge of her view of the street, Raoul and Professor Manuela came into sight. They were moving sideways as much as forward, and in circles more than sideways. Byleth sighed and set her quill down, she armed herself automatically before making her way downstairs. Raoul’s roommate was thankfully already in the common area with a couple of the others and a quick jerk of her head saw him follow her out of doors to collect the inebriate.

It required some finesse to slip herself into Raoul’s place under Manuela’s arm, but she managed it smoothly, knocking the swordsman forward so he staggered into position to be swept up none too gently into an over-the-shoulder carry and carted off –luckily for all involved he didn’t protest and managed to keep his stomach, he may even have been unconscious already. A round of laughter echoed out from their quarters and she rather expected Raoul would wake in the morning hungover and somehow also humiliated.

Byleth focused her attention on getting Manuela back to the monastery. “Good evening, Professor” she started, directing their feet in a much more _forward_ direction.

“Why Mizz Eissner hel-hello! Wh-en did you get here?”

“Just now, Professor. May I walk back with you?”

“If yurr taking me to bed sweetie, you mus’ call me Manuela” the professor said conspiratorially, tilting her head down to rest on Byleth’s shoulder

“Very well, Manuela.” Byleth agreed and Manuela hummed in satisfaction. Very shortly the hum turned tuneful and a moment later her voice pierced the night with a few lyrics;

“Here it comes! Horsebow Moon and summer’s end!”

“Do you sing, Manuela?” Byleth asked as the last note trailed off, mostly to keep the physician awake and moving. It proved a rather more effective question than she’d expected. 

“Do I –Do I _sing_? Dear girl, I am _the_ Manuela Ca-sa- **gran** -da of the Miffle- the Miffle –Miffle –Miff- the most renowned Opera Company in all Adrestia. _Do I sing_ , indeed!” It took Byleth some effort to keep them steady as Manuela gesticulated widely, but it was more amusing than frustrating.

“Your pardon –I’ve only recently discovered an interest in music.”

“ _Oh!_ Then you must come and h-ear me darling! I shall-shall put on a concert! Why yes, I should plan this immeee- immee- imme- right away!”

Manuela’s pace picked up and Byleth lengthened her stride to match, nodding as they passed the night watch into the inner grounds. They had just reached the pathway through the gardens when Manuela suddenly halted “Hey, wh-here’d that fella go?”

Byleth didn’t even have a chance to answer before Manuela exclaimed and somehow managed to slip from her grip and sashay her way across to the hedge that lined the path, stooping to pick something up that had glinted in the moonlight “I know this!” She held up the white mask over her eyes “Tell me, do I look dashing?”

Her coat was slipping down one arm, her hair a tousled mess, make-up smudged in all directions and she was holding the mask at such an angle that it blocked half of one eye entirely, but even Byleth knew there was only one answer to that question;

“Very.”

Manuela giggled, and tottered back over to take Byleth’s arm allowing the mercenary to lead her onwards once more as she began chattering away about various masks, props, accessories and costumes she had worn in her days in the spotlight.

By some miracle, they navigated the stairs without mishap, and Byleth was able to talk Manuela into taking her shoes (and daggers) off before she collapsed onto one of the infirmary beds, but not her coat. Nor did she get her to drink the goblet of water she filled from an ewer conveniently on hand before the diva was dead to the world.

Byleth tugged a blanket up over the older woman and after a moment to consider decided she’d rather deal with Manuela’s hangover in the morning than whatever her men would have done to Raoul, and so she removed her sword and slipped into a nearby chair to kip the rest of the night away.

~o~*~o~

When she woke, Manuela was greeted by the sound of liquids being poured and gently stirred. She couldn’t imagine why that might be and fought to lift her head through the haze; an undignified groan escaping when the effort proved too much.

A moment later a cup was pressed in her hand and held there, a second presence assisting her to bring it up to wet her throat. She was halfway through before she realised it wasn’t her usual hangover cure and she stopped, well trained physician’s mind kicking in to identify it. The main ingredients were pure water and mint; but she also detected Ailell grass and white verona. Not as effective for the headache as her usual remedy, but swifter acting and more settling to the stomach. She tipped the rest of it back and turned bleary eyes on her benefactress.

“Thank you, dear. What time is it?”

“A little before ten, Professor.”

“Ah-ah, I told you to call me Manuela.”

“You remember?” the mercenary asked, eyebrows just hinting upwards with surprise.

“I always do, sooner or later; one of my many burdens.” Manuela replied, massaging her temples “I can’t say I’m quite up for giving you a concert right now, but if you give me a moment to ah… put myself together, I can certainly whip something up in the kitchens to tide us through to lunch. My little thank-you for taking such good care of me.” 

“I won’t turn down a free meal” Byleth answered, as Manuela pulled the privacy curtain between them and set about righting her dishevelment. As she reached for her brush she noticed her prize from last night sitting on a nearby cabinet

“Goodness, I should probably return that first. Do you know, I’ve never seen Professor Jeritza without his mask, I expect he’ll be wanting it. It’s a shame really, I imagine he’s rather handsome under there.”

“I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Well, perhaps you’ll get the chance.” Manuela returned, drawing the curtain aside again with a flourish and linking her arm through Byleth’s. “One quick stop then on to breakfast, my dear –you won’t mind if I drop all the formalities and call you Byleth will you?”

“Not at all.”

“Aren’t you sweet” Manuela cooed, as she led them onwards. “Say, whatever did happen to that fella?”

“From what I gathered, you drank him under the table… his awakening will probably be less pleasant than yours.”

Manuela, long practiced at treating the aftermath of the sort of behaviour that generally occurred when large groups of friends (typically male) were left with the unconscious but otherwise sound body of one of their cohorts, snorted “No, with your crew I imagine not.”

They meandered their way down to the Knight’s residences and through a couple of narrowed cloisters before Manuela drew them to a halt in front of a door “Coo-ee, Professor” she called as she rapped on the door. There was no response, but the door creaked open slightly. The ladies shared a glance then pushed the door open to an empty room, neatly made. “Well, I’ll just leave this here and then we can go on.” Manuela said, crossing over the threshold. 

~o~*~o~

It was only a passing comment that Felix made over breakfast, but something about it stuck in Dimitri’s mind. Professor Jeritza _had_ been quicker, harsher, more reckless in his matches the past moon or so, and he _had_ by all accounts often been missing from the monastery during the night of late.

It could be nothing –just stress, and yet his concern only grew until by mid-morning he was seeking out Captain Jeralt. Somehow, over the course of his explanation, Seteth had become involved. It was quite clear to everyone that the advisor was going to run mad if he continued to be unable to _do_ anything, and so, whether Dimitri’s suspicions were really enough or not, Jeralt suggested that Seteth come along with him and Alois to at least have a word with Jeritza about anything he may have noticed in the night.

Dimitri followed them out of a sense of obligation more than anything; he had started it, he ought to finish it. Although he held back for a moment to speak with Professor Hanneman, who approached from the stables as they reached the pathway to the Knight’s abode.

He didn’t quite manage to say “Good morning, Professor” before the screaming started. 

~o~*~o~

Manuela had just put the mask down on the desk when a nearby bookcase swung away from the wall. In the narrow passage revealed behind it stood what could only be Death Knight, scythe propped over one shoulder, the opposite arm extended to push the case open, horned helm nearly scraping the doorframe. The convivial atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a tense energy that raised the hairs on the back of their necks. 

In a flash, Byleth stepped in front of the doctor, sword drawn and raised at the ready.

There was a moment of terrible silence.

“You must die.” Said the Knight.

Byleth sprang forward, pressing him backward into the passage with a flurry of swift blows. The shaft of the scythe repelled them, but in the confines of the stairwell he had limited horizontal movement to counter her.

The Death Knight quickly retreated back a step and a bolt of magic flew at her. If she dodged, it would strike her companion- it was all Byleth could do to choose where it would hit (her off-arm), and bless Manuela’s quick action with a warding spell that spared her from too much damage, though her fingers tingled slightly, the very tips gone numb.

“You will scream before you die.” The Knight taunted, reversing the scythe so the blade, still limited in horizontal motion, was threatening to trip her feet.

“Manuela” Byleth said, voice calm and commanding “give the man what he wants.”

Manuela Casagranda, peerless diva of the Mittlefrank Opera Company, took a breath and let out a scream that could have raised the roof of the Cathedral.

Even though she’d been expecting it, Byleth flinched. The Death Knight recovered faster.

In a quick one-two motion that caused an alarming _crunch_ in her wrist he used the shaft of the scythe to knock her sword out of guard and to the side. Before she could react more than the widening of her eyes at the pain of it, in a movement too quick to follow, the Death Knight twisted his blade _up_. The Scythe of Sariel pierced her abdomen and though she couldn’t see it, the very tip broke through her back.

By pure reflex her offhand gripped the pole so he couldn’t withdraw it as her body began to go into shock. Sothis was screaming at the back of her mind and Manuela’s own effort had taken a higher, more desperate, note. 

“Inconsequential.”

He released one hand from the scythe and a gauntleted fist crashed directly into face. Her grip on both her sword and the scythe fell as she staggered back, dazed and faint, against the wall. The Knight took that moment to rip the blade from her. Her blood splattering in arcs against the walls and stairs.

A bestial, primal, roar filled the passageway. In the blink of an eye a steel spear appeared piercing the Knight’s shoulder. In another, the back of a familiar amber tunic filled her darkening vision.

_“It’s alright…”_ she thought at the desperate voice of Sothis, still screaming… _something_ about time at her “ _Dad’s here. SafeAlrightSleepCold.”_

And then she knew nothing.

~o~*~o~

The four of them, Jeralt, Seteth, Alois and Hanneman had left Dimitri to guard the gate and arrived just in time to see the blade ripped from Byleth.

And then Jeralt went _berserk_ , like one of the fighters out of legend.

He strode forward, every step matched by a blow, the harsh ringing of spear on armour reverberating around them and forcing the Death Knight, trailing blood from one shoulder, back and back and back and back, down into a chamber.

Seteth was vaguely aware from some schema of the Monastery or other that he knew what this room was, but he didn’t have the time to place the thought at present –there were other forces here.

Jeralt ignored them all, utterly fixated on the Death Knight. Their foe had more room now to dodge and parry, using the full range of movement best suited to his weapon, but the Captain of the Knights of Seiros, no; Byleth’s Father, was _relentless_. Seteth and Alois covered his flanks, but there was little challenge to it. Most of the opponents in the room were rattled by the sheer force of presence that was the Blade Breaker, cloaked in anger, stalking forward like some unstoppable titan. Hanneman took the rear, guarding the stair and dispatching any who attempted to flee past where Manuela was crouched over Byleth, healing hands working fervently.

They pursued the Death Knight through a large room, then doors and passages and another hall until he backed into a dead end where-

“Flayn!” Seteth cried, just as Jeralt countered a swing of the scythe with a swift reversal and delivered a jab with the butt of his lance that cracked the helm of the Death Knight. One cold blue eye and Jeritza’s pale hair visible as part of the faceguard fell away and he staggered back.

“It seems this charade has ended” spoke a new voice, and a figure, hidden under mask and robe, stepped out from the shadows in the corner of the room.

Jeralt brandished his spear, deadly tip pointing at the new figure in challenge.

“Your name” he spat “so I may engrave it on your tomb.”

“I am the Flame Emperor. It is I who will reforge the world.”

Seteth felt the tingle of magic pass over his scalp as, with no other fanfare, the Flame Emperor and the Death Knight, Jeritza, vanished. Jeralt roared again as his quarry was denied him and though he wanted desperately to rush to Flayn, to Cethleann, Seteth held himself back long enough to clamp a hand on the Captain’s arm and bring his focus on himself.

“Your daughter needs you.”

Slowly the rage cleared from Jeralt’s eyes and he nodded briefly before turning on his heel and running from the room, back the way they’d come, leaving Seteth free at last to tend to his own. He lifted his precious child into his arms; she was pale and cold, but breathing steadily and he was almost overwhelmed by the relief that coursed through him. Except, he couldn’t give into it yet, there was still more to be done.

Alois picked his way past him and pulled another figure up from the floor “is that –Monica?”

“I believe it is.” The knight answered “What is going on here?”

“I don’t know. Come, we have enough to be doing.” And, cradling Flayn to him, he worked his way back out of the chamber, following the route they had come by.

Manuela was kneeling beside Byleth’s prone figure, and Jeralt was now crouched at her head, holding it delicately off the stone stair and watching his daughter’s face for any expression of pain that may cross it. Hanneman was missing, but reappeared almost as soon as Seteth registered he was absent with Marianne von Edmund at his back.

“Oh G-Goddess.” She whispered on seeing the blood, but to her credit, stepped forward immediately and settled beside Manuela, listening intently to her Professor’s instructions.

“There’s quite a crowd up there” Hanneman murmured when he was sure he wouldn’t disrupt the healers. “Catherine and Prince Dimitri are holding them, so you should be able to get through. I sent Miss Mercedes and young Lindhart ahead to prepare the infirmary.” 

“That was well done” Seteth acknowledged. “Manuela,” he called gently, “how long before Miss Eisner can be moved?”

“Whatever that blade was made of, the wounds don’t want to close normally, but I’ve got the trick of it now.” She answered, eyes focused resolutely on the young mercenary’s abdomen “A moment more and she’ll be stable enough. Marianne, leave the poor dear’s face for now; go ahead and get an elixir ready from the third cabinet, it’s the blood loss we need to concern ourselves with next.”

“Yes, Professor.” Marianne answered, resolute with a task set before her, she took off up the stairs ahead of them as Manuela finally drew her hands away

“There, gently now, Captain, move swiftly but don’t jostle her.” 

~o~*~o~

“I am here.” Edelgard announced as she approached Dimitri’s side on the pathway outside the Knight’s housing “Apologies for my tardiness; how can I help?”

“We’ve been asked to keep a path clear to the infirmary.” Dimitri answered indicating around them, where Raphael and Dedue were blocking the tide of students crowding forward from the stables and Claude, Sylvain and Caspar were ushering a similar crowd back beyond the walkway between the Reception and Knight’s Halls. Dimitri himself was holding the gate to the tea garden but more faces kept popping up over the hedge as the curious climbed up on chairs and tables to see what was happening. “Professor Hanneman said there’d be injured coming up soon. If you could see to it that the reception hall is clear, then-”

He was unable to finish around Edelgard’s started gasp and the sudden hush of the crowd as Catherine threw the gate open from the Knight’s housing, jogging ahead towards the reception hall to clear it herself. Behind her was the reason for the sudden stillness; Jeralt, Byleth and Manuela.

Jeralt’s face could have been carved from granite it was so severe. Byleth was pale, unconscious, beaten and limp in his arms and Manuela paced alongside them, hand on Byleth’s abdomen, occasional pulses of white magic flickering between her fingers. The beautiful white coat that made up such a significant part of her silhouette was stained in blood down one side from hip to hem –and halfway round the hem at that, as though she had knelt in a pool of it. 

“Return to your duties.” Seteth’s voice snapped them out of their surprise “House Leaders, see to it.” The advisor added as he swept by in Jeralt’s wake, Flayn in his arms and Alois and Hanneman on his heels.

Edelgard was still and silent beside him and Claude was staring off after Jeralt’s retreating back, eyes wide with surprise, so Dimitri stepped forward to the middle of the path “Everyone!” He called “Flayn has been found. Please, go and inform your classmates; call them back from the search.”

“Yes!” Edelgard suddenly started, head snapping up to meet Caspar’s eyes “Black Eagles, go tell everyone the good news.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAW YEAH!” Caspar yelled “WE FOUND FLAYN YOU GUYS!” he cheered. He pushed his way into the crowd behind him, cheering occasionally and they began to scatter, passing the message on.

Over by the stables, Raphael picked up the call “D’you hear that guys? We found Flayn!”

“Well done.” Dimitri said lowly, casting a glance down at Edelgard

“Naturally.” She replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder, then crossed her arms “But there will be questions soon.”

“True enough” Claude added, approaching them “So, Dimitri it looks like this one is down to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, **I’m** certainly not going near Seteth or Captain Jeralt for the next full week at least. I don’t see Professor Jeritza around here and Professor Manuela has her hands full soooooo…”

“Yes.” Dimitri agreed with a sigh “I’ll ask Professor Hanneman for the report.”

“There is no point in delaying, we would be better going together.” Edelgard interjected and Claude sighed.

“And here I thought I might finally get time for a nap.”


	8. You Fool! You Idiot! You Empty-Headed, Bumbling, Boulder-Brained –Hey! I am not done!

Horsebow Moon

Lindhart and Mercedes took charge of Flayn and the other girl, Monica, while Marianne continued to assist Manuela, mixing a draught of the strongest concoction the physician knew to replenish blood loss. Flayn and Monica received half a dose each. Byleth got two.

The hall outside was crowded with worried men, which only worsened as the House Leaders arrived looking for answers. Eventually, Alois stepped up.

“Alright then, let’s all settle down. Captain, if we may use your office to debrief, we’ll be right next door if anything changes.”

The students squeezed in together on one couch, Alois and Hanneman took the other while Seteth paced. Jeralt leaned heavily back against the short edge of his desk, glaring at the wall that separated him from his child.

“Now then,” Hanneman started “Let us begin by establishing the facts. Firstly, we have found Miss Flayn and with her, Miss Monica a student who went missing last year, they were being held by the Death Knight for purposes unknown. Secondly, Miss Eisner was injured in combat with the Death Knight before reinforcements arrived, but received treatment immediately and is stable at present.”

“‘ _Injured’_ you call it?” Jeralt scoffed, fists clenched “She was damn near eviscerated.”

“Grievous though the wound was, she no doubt saved Professor Manuela from worse and was, in turn, saved. There is no need for present concern.” Hanneman added with purposeful calmness, more for the students than anyone else. Catching this, Jeralt made a deliberate effort to take a breath and unclench his hands. If his grip shifted instead to the edge of the desk it was at least an improvement. 

“Thirdly” Seteth took over, halting his pacing by the tea table “the Death Knight has been identified as Professor Jeritza. If anyone sees him, they are not to engage and to report it to the Knights _immediately._ As it stands, we anticipate some… disruption to classes in the next few weeks. We will be relying on you, House Leaders, to assist as we find a working schedule.”

Dimitri was about to offer assurances when there was a knock on the door and Lindhart poked his head through

“Pardon, Flayn and the other girl are awake.”

Seteth visibly restrained himself from running to the door. He was halfway through his first step before he arrested the motion and addressed the room

“Excellent. Well, Hanneman if you would begin working on the issue of our lacking staff I will join you shortly. Alois if you would kindly update the Archbishop, and you students inform your houses that all is in hand.”

As the others filed out of the room to their tasks Jeralt’s grip on the desk turned white-knuckled.

If she’d managed to avoid detection before, there was no chance Byleth could escape Rhea’s notice now.

~o~*~o~

As soon as the noise next door had settled –Flayn and Monica dismissed to other locations, the three white magic students ushered out to rest and reflect on what they had learned and achieved, Jeralt made his way through to check on his daughter. He ignored Manuela as she puttered around _moving_ the mess more than _tidying_ it and running some few last checks. Instead he eased into a chair by Byleth’s bed and took stock.

Her face had healed cleanly; nose in perfect alignment and only the very faintest hint of what would otherwise have been an impressive set of black eyes lingering. She was breathing easily, having been changed from her armour to a pale linen gown that was less constrictive and would allow easier access for her healers. Her right hand was bound with a splint, conjured ice cooling the muscles swelling at her wrist –he hadn’t even noticed that injury earlier.

Her colour was better, and she was sleeping as calmly as she ever did when she wasn’t dreaming.

The fear which had held his heart in an unrelenting grasp since that one terrible moment at last released and he was finally able to move past the singular devoted thought of “Byleth” on to his next steps.

Food, for a start. Clean clothes. Get a message to the troop.

Prepare for Rhea.

Figure out what in the world was going on around here. And how to protect his daughter from the worst of it.

He sighed and pushed himself out of the chair. “I’m going to grab myself some food and get cleaned up, Manuela. Can I bring you anything?”

“Jeralt, we need to talk.”

It didn’t take much to figure out what Manuela wanted to talk about as she stood, one hand holding the pulse at Byleth’s wrist, the other pressed against her patient’s heart, face that careful non-expression only doctors with bad news could manage. Jeralt, who was, in fact, more of an optimist than he’d admit, opted for dismissive as he continued towards the door;

“Don’t worry about it, it’s normal.”

“This is many things Jeralt Eisner, but normal is not one of them.”

“If you knew my middle name I’d have gotten the full treatment just then, wouldn’t I?”

“ _Jeralt._ ” The Captain lifted his hands in the universal signal of surrender and made his way back to sit in the chair

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

Manuela paused, flustered, as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say, then asked the question that had chased him away from the monastery twenty-one years ago “Why doesn’t your daughter have a heartbeat?”

“I wish I knew.” He answered, and under Manuela’s glare spread his arms and elaborated “I wasn’t at the birth. By the time I arrived all I could be told was that my wife had died, but my daughter was saved. Even then, she didn’t cry, didn’t laugh, didn’t fuss… it was difficult, at first. Lady Rhea told me not to worry, but of course I did. So I had her examined.”

Manuela filled in the blanks “And then you left the Church.” Her hand strayed up from Byleth’s chest to brush some hair from her face. “Who presided over the birth?”

“Rhea.”

Manuela seemed to deflate, a burden added to her shoulders “And she told you nothing?”

“Not a damn thing.”

The physician sighed and tucked the girl’s hand back under the blanket “Well, she’s made it this far… I won’t go poking my nose in to mess with what isn’t broken, and you know I’ll keep this to myself but… Well, it does make one wonder.”

“You’re telling me. Are we done here, then?”

“Yes, you can take your time. She’ll be out for the night at least –unless she has some resistance to anaesthetics I should know about?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” 

Manuela nodded “I’ll watch her until you’re back then, try not to worry too much. We wouldn’t want you getting wrinkled now.”

A chuff that might generously have been called a laugh escaped him, but whatever good feelings Manuela’s light-hearted teasing may have engendered died almost as soon as he laid eyes on the doors of the audience chamber. 

~o~*~o~

Byleth moved towards wakefulness like a bubble rising from the depths, the pressure of _sleep_ lifting until she was floating just on the surface of it.

It was too much to open her eyes, but she could hear the reassuring murmur of her Father’s snoring, so even though she felt hazy, heavy and not quite connected to herself, she knew nothing could be wrong. 

“ _Sothis?_ ”

 _“I… am not speaking to you.”_ A sharp pang of confusion, followed by a wave of sadness and loneliness, which in turn gave way to a frustration that was not her own _“Do not! Do not guilt me into- oh this bond is most inconvenient right now! I am angry with you, and you should feel badly about it!”_

_“What… did I do?”_

_“Well, at least you acknowledge it is your own doing! I gave you my power you simple-minded fool! And what do you do? You forget about it and let yourself be split open! Have you no sense of self-preservation? Have you any sense at all!?”_

_“Oh…”_

_“If it wasn’t bad enough that you were taken in by your own ploy for reinforcements, you were defeated by a simple sweep! I could have dodged it! And –what are you so happy about?”_

_“You’re upset…”_

_“Yes, I think we have well established that.”_

_“-because you CareHappinessAffectionFriend.”_

Sothis fell quiet for a moment as her frustration battled against Byleth’s, admittedly drugged, contentment and her own better nature.

_“Oh, fine. I am glad you survived. But you are still the stupidest creature I ever –Hey! Do not fall asleep while I am lecturing you!”_

It was too late. With one last little pulse of happiness the need to sleep pulled Byleth back under.

~o~*~o~

Seteth’s instinct was to take Flayn and flee. To leave Garreg Mach –possibly even Fódlan- and find a place where they might live out of sight; unknown and unnoticed.

But the best solution to their sudden lack of a Professor that Hanneman had so far come up with involved him devolving most of his church-related duties to the Cardinals and taking on the Black Eagles himself –not as a stop-gap, but for the rest of the year.

And suddenly it wasn’t just his debt to Rhea that kept him here. Bernadetta needed someone to encourage her –Felix as well in a similar vein. _Something_ had to be done about Hilda’s laziness and Cyril’s lack of self-interest. He could likely make more of a difference to these young people as a Professor than as the Archbishop’s formidable advisor.

If _he_ were her Professor, he could certainly keep a closer eye on Flayn. She may get her wish to join the Academy after all.

There was more work to be done before it was possible. He could not simply hand over _everything_ , but they appeared to be closing in on a way forward.

~o~*~o~

When she woke again her mind was sharper, clearer. Her composure intact once more. Her eyes opened and then closed immediately; both against the light and so she could brush the sleep from them. She was southpaw again, she noted, her right wrist splinted. Twice in one year was the beginnings of a pattern; she’d have to start training her off-hand more seriously.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” Her father rumbled from somewhere beside her, and she let her head loll over to view him “About time, too. I can’t stay much longer.”

Byleth hummed a little to warm up her throat, but her voice still cracked when she asked; “Job?”

“Mission” he agreed “Someone has to make a start tracking down –well, you can probably guess.”

Byleth hummed again and levered herself upright using her elbows, sliding back until she was propped up with her pillow warming her back against the headboard. “Interrogation first?” she asked, resigning herself to it.

“Oh I have _some_ questions.” Jeralt affirmed, heaving himself out of the chair to loom over her “We’ll start with what the _hell_ did you think you were playing at and **how** _exactly_ did you get yourself impaled!?”

 _“Hear, hear!”_ Sothis agreed

“I put myself between the enemy and my healer.” Jeralt paused, then groaned, resting his forehead in one broad palm to press finger and thumb against his temples.

“Well I can’t exactly fault you for that. Let’s back up to the beginning, what were the pair of you doing there in the first place?” 

“Manuela and Raoul-”

“Stop.” Jeralt interjected immediately, opening his hand “Skip past anything that involves “Manuela and Raoul” I don’t need to hear it.”

Byleth nodded slowly and thought forward a bit to a point she could pick the story up from “It was late –last night?” She asked, confused; her Sothis-gifted sense of time told her it must be longer than that, but she couldn’t figure out how.

“You’ve were attacked yesterday morning, Kid.” Jeralt informed her “You’ve been asleep over a day.”

“Oh.” She nodded, that matched with what that feeling was telling her “The night before last then. I decided Manuela needed an escort back to the infirmary because she was…”

“Three sheets to the wind?” Jeralt offered

“Completely rudderless.” Byleth agreed, bringing the first hint of a smile to her father “On the way she picked up a mask from the ground but otherwise she let me lead her back. It was late enough and she was so badly off that I napped in that chair and made her your cure-all in the morning.” She added, nodding to the chair Jeralt himself had haunted for the past day “She said she’d take me for breakfast, but first she was just going to drop the mask off for Professor Jeritza. He wasn’t in, so she left the mask on the desk when the wall opened and… there he was.”

“And there he was” Jeralt sighed, sitting back down in the chair “You’re telling me it was just rotten luck?”

Byleth nodded “Is Manuela…?”

“Fit as a fiddle. So is Flayn by the way, we found her down there, along with another. And don’t think for a moment that you’ve weaselled your way out of explaining that wound to me.”

Byleth ducked her head sheepishly and Jeralt’s eyes narrowed in on her. She’d been slightly more open with her emotions of late, since taking over the company, but he hadn’t seen her sheepish for many years; she had grown into competence so early even he forgot she’d made mistakes while learning, that for all her stoicism she hadn’t always been the Ashen Demon.

“I flinched.”

“ **You** flinched?” he asked with incredulity “What in creation made _you_ flinch?”

“I thought it would be best to summon back-up, so I told Manuela to scream… I didn’t expect her to be so –loud.” Jeralt blinked as that processed

“You didn’t expect a renowned opera singer to be loud?”

Byleth shrugged one shoulder “I’d never heard one before.”

“You’ve never-” he groaned and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his palms “No, of course you haven’t, we’d never stuck in one place long enough.” He chuckled grimly and dragged his hands down until he could look at her again over the tips of his fingers “I may have been a bit slack in your general education, Kid.”

“How many mercenaries need to know about the opera?”

“Not many” Jeralt allowed, slumping back “Just you and your ridiculous luck.” He sighed and leaned forward again to put a hand on her shoulder “Alright, Kid, you know the drill. Follow the good Doctor’s orders and once I’m back-” the infirmary door opened

“Pardon the intrusion.”

Jeralt’s hand clenched painfully on her shoulder and she braced under his sudden intensity. Two people approached the end of her bed; one was Seteth who inclined his head to her when their eyes met, the other was a woman she’d not seen before, though judging by her vestments she was someone of authority in the church.

“Ah, you’re awake, Miss Eisner. Byleth, was it not? I am Rhea, the Archbishop. I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”

Jeralt’s hand trailed from her shoulder to a more natural resting place at her elbow, blunt nails scoring a fierce path down the back of her arm as they went. Byleth had a sudden awareness that she was not in her armour. The Archbishop smiled serenely. Her Father’s eyes were inscrutable.

“A pleasure.”

Seteth stepped forward “I owe you –both of you- a debt of gratitude. Without your actions we might never have recovered Flayn. Please; if there is ever anything I might do for you, you need only name it.” 

“Your arrival was clearly a blessing from the Goddess, I pray she grants you a swift healing.” Rhea added

 _“What sort of Goddess would have sent you as a blessing?”_ Sothis scoffed, clearly still upset with her and annoyed that Jeralt appeared to have let off the chastisement easily.

Sothis’s mood fed her own trepidation, and with her father’s nails still digging into her skin, Byleth had no difficulty keeping her face the absolute mask of the Ashen Demon, even as she replied.

“Thank you –both.”

“We won’t take up your time when you should be resting” Seteth continued “But, Jeralt, if I may have a word before you depart?”

“Of course, I’ll be right out.” The Captain replied, effectively dismissing them all from the room. Seteth nodded and strode out, but Rhea lingered a moment more, her eyes roving over Byleth’s face before she too, inclined her head and glided from the room, a pleased smile gracing her mouth.

Her Father’s hand ran up and down her arm as though in apology and he picked up where he’d left off “When I’m back we’ll talk more. Listen to Manuela and stay out of trouble.” Byleth nodded sharply, mouth a tight line and Jeralt made his way to the door, pausing on the threshold to glance back at her before he left;

“Keep your guard up, Kid, and if you can manage it; give the Archbishop a wide berth.”

 _“So,”_ Sothis mused, dropping her frustration in favour of intrigue as he left _“It was not the monastery he was wary of, but that woman, Rhea.”_

Although why that might be neither of them could guess.

~o~*~o~

Manuela informed Byleth that she was being kept in for “observation” for a few days due to the nature of the weapon that had harmed her. It had defied the traditional method of magical healing at first, but once she’d gotten a handle on it, the wounds had healed almost _too_ cleanly. There was barely even a scar and Manuela wanted to be sure the internal injuries had healed as seamlessly –and remained healed- and that she hadn’t picked up any infections before the doctor released her back to the barracks with instructions to take it easy for a week or two beyond that.

In the meanwhile, Byleth was beginning to get bored. Sanderson had turned up with the ledgers and complaints (How _dare_ the Ashen Demon almost die somewhere as unromantic as a _stairwell_ –even a secret one- and stick him with something as mundane as _bookkeeping_ ) but it’d taken less than an hour to sort through those, with her having done much of the work already. Later, Edelgard had turned up with tea, and that had been…

Actually that had been pleasant, overall.

The Imperial Princess continued to give off that impression that she was constantly evaluating her; even when Edelgard was notionally apologising for not noticing that her professor had been moonlighting as a creature out of children’s nightmares.

The dire tone of the conversation was somewhat alleviated by the sweet cakes from Enbarr and the tea was exquisite even to Byleth’s untrained palette, and, once they’d moved past that awkward moment, Edelgard had shown her refinement and kept the conversation light and charming, choosing topics Byleth was able to weigh in on. It was a surprisingly comfortable half-hour, so she’d agreed when the princess suggested they might do it again sometime -even if it was only politesse. 

Manuela came and went several times, dropping one stack of lesson plans down to exchange for another as she switched between her own class and the Black Eagles, occasionally stopping to check the mercenary’s pulse and temperature, admonish her to drink more to keep hydrated and run a magical diagnostic over her internal wounds. When she had finished for the day, she brought in a dinner she had cooked herself -likely better than Byleth expected most infirmary patients were treated to.

“Is there anything I can do while I’m here, Manuela? I don’t like to be so idle.” She asked, as they moved from the main course to desert 

“Oh, dear, I have neglected you. I suppose these four walls must lose interest quickly without company around to liven things up, but with Jeritza gone Hanneman and I are pulling double duty for the rest of the moon… Well. I’m confident enough that a trip to the library and back won’t hurt you. You don’t need to stay completely bed-bound. Just go easy, and if anything feels _off_ come back immediately.” 

Byleth thanked her, and once they were done with dinner (Manuela was an excellent conversationalist, and they had lingered over desert. Sothis commented that she was finally becoming sociable herself as the conversation went on; first it had been Edelgard, now the doctor.) and Manuela took their dishes away, the mercenary eased herself out of bed and paced the room a little to loosen up, feeling the slight stretching of newly-healed skin and muscle, before folding a blanket to pull around her shoulders like a shawl and padding her way barefoot to the library.

The lights were dimmed when she entered –the room only lit by a few sets of candelabrum on the desks at the centre, the wall-brackets and chandeliers all extinguished. An old man was moving a small stack of books from one table to the nearby shelf and greeted her as she entered.

“Hello there, Miss, can I help you? You’ve come at just the right moment; I’d have left in another minute.”

“I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“Oh, not at all. You must be Manuela’s latest patient, the Captain’s daughter. I am Tomas, the librarian here at Garreg Mach. I imagine you must be looking for something to occupy yourself with while convalescing?”

“Just so.” Byleth agreed stepping further into the light “Do you have any recommendations?”

“I recommend everything, of course, but for you in particular… Well, a woman of your reputation hardly needs a refresher on tactics. The Traveller’s Journal might interest you, or if you’re after something lighter we do have a collection of chivalric romances.”

“The Journal, I think.” Byleth answered, rightly assuming she’d get all the ‘light’ entertainment she could possibly require from Manuela’s gossip. Tomas beckoned her forward and lifted a sizable tome from the collection still on the desk. Their hands brushed as he handed it to her.

On the throne in the space between their souls, Sothis sat up straight in alarm, hands gripping the cold edge of each armrest. 

Byleth sent her a querying thought, but the girl would not or could not answer, returning only a feeling of _alertness_ , of something being _wrong_.

“Feel free to look around, of course.” Tomas continued “Up on the mezzanine you’ll find most of the books of tactics and the student guide books, some almanacs, maps and histories as well. Across the room there that entire wall is dedicated to the texts of the Seiros faith. This side covers a little of everything; fiction, travel, magic, fishing and so on. At the back there are the rest of the histories and the gynaecological lists for the noble houses. Informative, but not particularly interesting, despite what Master Riegan seems to think.” This last was added in a voice pitched to carry and another voice answered from above;

“If it’s restricted, then that _makes_ it interesting. Why keep editions students aren’t allowed to read at all?”

Byleth stepped back a pace or two to look up. Sure enough, Claude was sitting perched precariously on the bannister of the mezzanine above, book held open and angled over the central space so he could peruse it in the limited light of the candelabrums. Sothis was still tense within and Byleth felt a wave of consternation with herself –why had she not scanned the space on entering? How had she missed a second presence? Jeralt would not be happy with her just now. Those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind for later reflection, however, as Claude caught her eye and winked finger held to his lips to call for her silence. Setting his book aside he leaned back until he was hanging from the railing by his knees, capelet falling from his shoulder to halo his head.

“Because the Monastery does not revolve solely around the Officer’s Academy for one” Tomas replied, joining her “and –Claude von Riegan! I have told you a hundred times not to do that! I give up, if you fall then on your own head be it.”

“Literally.” Claude quipped back and Tomas heaved a sigh that spoke of long suffering.

“And with that, I am going to take my aching bones off to bed. If you’re going to stay, do try not to burn all the candles down this time, Claude.”

“I’ll do my best, Tomas.”

The old librarian bid them goodnight and shuffled off. Claude gripped the bottom of the rails nearest his head and flipped himself over, hanging suspended for a moment before dropping to the floor in a light crouch. He stood easily and turned to face her, as if this was a perfectly normal way of traversing the library. There was something so casually ridiculous about his antics that was charming, and Byleth almost smiled despite herself. Almost.

“I’m glad to see you up and about again. I was pretty worried when I saw you being carried off to the infirmary. Although I can’t imagine anyone else would have come through much better one-on-one or even two-on-one against the Death Knight.”

“Have you fought him before?” She asked, head tipped to one side just ever so slightly

“Me? No. When the Holy Mausoleum was under attack I took one look at that guy and told everyone to steer clear. I got as far as I could and kept going.” 

“He’s a strong opponent. I should have had the terrain advantage when I engaged, and he even survived my Father. You made a good call.”

“You don’t think it was cowardly?” The question came too quickly, as though he’d faced the accusation before or was trying to trick her into admitting that that was her true thought. Their meeting at Remire village came to mind; the “first to make a strategic retreat” wasn’t it?

“Knowing when to retreat is as important as knowing when to advance. ‘He who fights and runs away may turn and fight another day’.”

Something she couldn’t identify sparked in the archer’s eyes “’But he who is in battle slain may never rise to fight again’. Right? Not every opponent can be overcome by just throwing everything you have at them.”

“But ‘he who hesitates is lost’.” Byleth continued “They’re both right, as they’re both wrong, depending on the battle. So long as you make the choice rationally, and are prepared to face whatever outcome, I wouldn’t call it cowardly.”

 _“Is this flirting? Are battle philosophes your idea of flirting? I am glad that you are opening up but this is not how one goes about courting.”_ Sothis teased, reclining once more, her earlier tension dissipating into humour. Byleth ignored her.

The “something” in Claude’s eyes was now certainly challenge and a smile that she thought could almost be real quirked his lips “Ah, but the decision has to be ‘rational’ does it? Do you never just go with your instincts?”

“All the time,” she admitted gracefully “you should know as well as I do that you don’t always _think_ so much as _react_ in battle. Perhaps it isn’t as easy to quantify as I suggested, but I hope I never confuse prudence with cowardice.”

“Prudence, huh” he mused, hands laced behind his head “I like the sound of that. I suppose it would be prudent of me to put the last of these candles out and get some sleep, unless you need a moment more?”

She glanced down at the tome in her arms “I think this will do for now, thank you, Claude.”

His head snapped round from where he’d been focused on pinching out the nearest candelabrum “Hey, you dropped the title! Finally warming up to me, huh?”

“You… asked me to? And you’re not presently my employer.” She explained

“Ah, I guess I should have known you wouldn’t drop the courtesies on the job. Okay, I can live with that.” He replied, picking up the last candle to light their way out, ushering her ahead. “It would be my pleasure, Byleth, to escort you on the long and perilous journey back to the infirmary.”

“Because you have to go that way anyway.”

“Hey now, don’t sell yourself short, Milady Mercenary.” He winked at her “Although, I confess, it’s not the least self-serving thing I’ve ever done.”

“What _would_ that be?”

“Oh, I was caught in an absolutely _vicious_ cycle of charity the other day. I swear, your virtue increases just by proximity to Raphael –I introduced you before, the big guy? Give it ‘till the end of the year and he’ll have me in the running for sainthood.” 

It was difficult to tell in the candlelight, as they paused by the infirmary door to take leave of each other, but Claude was almost sure that there was something suspiciously resembling a smile on her lips as she laid her hand on the handle and turned to him “I wish him well, so long as the influence doesn’t run the other way.”

“Ouch, I do have virtues of my own you know. For instance, instead of spending the night pointing them all out to you, I’m going to bid you a goodnight and leave you to recuperate. Which is really rather gallant and chivalrous of me, don’t you think?”

“Very much.” She agreed, just the faintest hint of that smile in her voice “Goodnight, Claude.”

“Goodnight, Byleth. Rest well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, "Milady Mercenary" is Claude's equivalent to "Teach". He came up with it on the spot and is very proud of himself. 
> 
> *Ahem*
> 
> So, in my notes for this chapter/the Horsebow moon, I have one line very clearly underlined, which says "punch the bastard!!!!!!" referring to the dude by the stables who when talking about Flayn's abduction blames the "Miscreant from Duscur". 
> 
> Dedue. Dedue a miscreant. Dedue. 
> 
> Every play through I want to punch him more. 
> 
> But my muse, who sounds more like Claude every day, insisted on writing the upside down scene instead. So I just want you to know that at some point someone decked the guy. It is very important to me that you understand that. :)


	9. Of Course I am a Good Influence!

Wyvern Moon

Things weren’t quite in place for Seteth to step in as the Black Eagle’s Professor in the first week of the next moon, so Hanneman and Manuela continued to do their best by all the students, assuring them the situation would be resolved by the end of the next week in plenty of time for them to seriously train for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

In the meanwhile, there was a fishing competition.

The Laundresses had practiced their sorcery on Byleth’s armour and Manuela’s coat (and there _had_ to be sorcery involved, to return _that_ to pristine condition) and the doctor had cleared Byleth to return to her usual habits, provided she agreed to a few check-up appointments, but Byleth knew better than to jump straight into a spar after so much inactivity. So she went to the pond hoping that some of the fish might pose a challenge.

The woman overseeing the contest delivered her instructions plainly, with as few words as possible and seemed to approve of Byleth’s answering nod. She found a spot (as far from where Alois was shouting challenges to the fish as possible) and cast her line. Her wrist twinged a little as she reeled her first catch in (a white trout, little more than the size of her palm and immediately donated to a nearby Almyran Longhair who came to investigate.) and she frowned at the reminder.

_“Careful now, that expression may scare off the fish.”_ Sothis commented, watching her reflection in the water _“Or, did you think I would be praising you for showing your feelings more?”_

_“No…”_ Byleth thought back, scanning the water for the shadows beneath _“I don’t know why it’s happening, I just am, recently.”_

_“Clearly it is my good influence.”_

_“ Clearly.”_

_“Was that sarcasm? At me!? Young Lady you ought to show better respect to your elders!”_ Sothis began a lecture in mock-affront, her enjoyment of the banter bubbling through them both.

The reflection in the water smiled.

~o~*~o~

Rhea might have entertained some doubt at the start of the year, but that was all done away with the moment she had seen the child. Obfuscate though he might, Jeralt could not hide that Byleth was clearly Sitri’s daughter. The girl with Her heart.

The hope that had sprouted now flourished. The despair she had felt twenty odd years ago, when they lost not only the child but any chance of further attempts, was nothing against it. All was possible again.

And yet, Jeralt had snuck the child in under her nose. Had she known sooner, she might have pressed to put the child in a position nearer her; Jeritza’s replacement perhaps, or simply a combat instructor. A position within the Academy where she might have some influence over her. Rhea’s only interactions with the battalions that worked at Garreg Mach were through the Guildmaster or the Captain of the Knights. Jeralt. He had placed himself quite firmly between them; as though _she_ were an enemy. In her own monastery!

For now, she must satisfy herself with watching from a distance. 

At no point did it occur to her that open honesty with her old friend, either now or two decades prior, might have saved them all a world of grief.

~o~*~o~

It was still odd for Byleth to have so much time to herself. Even accounting for her lightened training regime as she worked back to full health, she had many more hours in a day to fill than she ever had before whilst awaiting marching orders from the Guildmaster.

Her men were, well; men. They didn’t need to be cajoled into their own training and knew well enough the difference between well-kept equipment and death. A lot of the busywork of running a company was handled simply by being stationed at the monastery; she didn’t need to arrange jobs or seek out food and shelter. The limited expenditures they had to account for, for repair and upkeep, were easily managed.

And since they’d discovered tournaments in the training grounds, along with the sauna and the rest of Garreg Mach’s amenities, both in town and within the Monastery, the troop were well entertained. She joined them at times, watching the competitions and deigning to enter the Bishop’s Regret for a drink with them. She even admitted to Sanderson that they had a good line in ciders; his response was to nod wisely and tell her to avoid the swill they served in the Wilted Rose –she hadn’t been aware there _was_ a third pub in the area, let alone one even her men would spurn, until he explained that part of Abyss to her. 

The rest of the time she spent discovering things that interested _her_. The greenhouse was a pleasant space to occupy for an hour or so, but she’d spent too much time amongst nature to be particularly endeared to seeing it brought to order. She shunned the library for Sothis’s comfort, perusing instead the lesser collection in the Knight’s Hall. She fished, and became a favourite of the local cats. She listened to the choral practice almost as much for her own sake as for Sothis’s amusement, but avoided the services where the Archbishop was more likely to be in attendance. She caught up on what was going on with the Gatekeeper, so she could pass on the news to Manuela at her check-up appointments, taking the physician’s mind off her workload for a brief time.

Leonie seemed to have developed a sense for finding her, and often walked back with her from wherever she’d been that day so she could pester Sanderson for more stories. Byleth spent those evenings in amusement, exchanging glances with an increasingly frustrated Willard as Sanderson blatantly rewrote history to suit his narrative until he could take it no more. The resulting argument usually had Leonie crying with laughter against her shoulder, while Sothis jeered and cheered within.

Byleth’s smiles grew more frequent. 

~o~*~o~

Jeralt returned on the wings of the first cool breeze of autumn. He walked into the barracks one evening to many cheers and greetings from the men, stopping only long enough to return a few quick words before herding her up to her study.

“Doctor give you the all-clear then?” He started without preamble.

“Ready for missions starting next week.” Byleth confirmed

“We’ll see about that.” Jeralt promised. Byleth didn’t sigh exactly, but it was more frustrating than comforting that her Father would hand over responsibility for the company to her then _still_ insist on sounding her out after an injury. She was not particularly looking forward to tomorrow’s inevitable spar. “And then we’ll see about getting you and the boys assigned to me for my next mission at the end of this moon. I know” he continued, in a different tone “that you’ll have questions; I certainly gave you cause enough for them before I left. And I’ll answer all of them that I can. Just… not in the monastery. Alright, Kid?” 

Byleth regarded him coolly for a moment as she sorted through what was her own curiosity and what feelings belonged to Sothis before nodding slowly, her expression relaxing.

Jeralt grinned “Alright then. So, let your Old Man buy you a drink?”

“If we’re going to the Pegasus.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Kid.”

~o~*~o~

When news that the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon were sparring had rocked through the dining hall at lunchtime the next day Professors Hanneman and Manuela hadn’t even _tried_ to get the students to return to class for the afternoon session. Lindhart snuck off for a nap, and Bernadetta to hide, but everyone else (and not a few of the knights) made their way up to that corner of the monastery immediately.

Felix, of course, hadn’t even been in the dining hall and already had the best seat in the training grounds as he watched the pair face off against each other. The swordsman was almost vibrating in his seat, but, somehow, watching the match Claude felt disappointed. Spear against sword, Jeralt was taunting his daughter about her guard being out of place, and she wasn’t pushing back-

“I had expected… _more_.” Ferdinand verbalised what they were feeling.

Felix scoffed, his hand visibly twitching “One more minute, then you’ll change your tune.”

Claude scanned the room, and yes –there was a water clock, set to chime at three minute intervals. What was-

“Oh!” said Dimitri, suddenly sitting straighter eyes fixed sharply on the match, and frustratingly not sharing his epiphany with the rest of them.

“Alright, I’ll bite” Claude said after a moment “What’ve you and his grouchiness seen that we haven’t?”

“Miss Byleth is not left-handed.”

_Everyone_ was suddenly paying greater attention to the match. Sure enough, her sword was held in her offhand, and while she may not be pushing back, she wasn’t letting Jeralt get any significant blows in either.

The clock chimed and with a flourish the sword swapped from left to right and the entire pace of the match _changed_. Byleth now stepped forward with her parries and made more than a few impressive thrusts of her own considering the unfavourable match between the length of her reach and Jeralt’s. 

“She is not taking the advantage of… of openness.” Petra commented

“Against an opponent like Jeralt, you shouldn’t trust an opening you didn’t make yourself.” Ingrid answered.

The clock chimed again and Jeralt reversed his grip, leading with _his_ offhand. Suddenly, every lecture Professor Manuela had given about sword strikes flowing like water made _sense._ Byleth was constantly moving, the sword practically dancing in her hand. She didn’t taunt her father as he had taunted her, preferring to fight in silence, but the flat of her blade punished a hand out of alignment once or twice.

Claude decided then and there to stick with axes, if he _had_ to fight in melee, and to hell with “lordly poise”. There was no hope of him ever replicating… _this_.

Another chime and the sword was back to her left, weakness against weakness. It was perhaps the most brilliant demonstration of technique any of them had ever seen as father and daughter relied more heavily on footwork, positioning and accuracy to continue the bout. Byleth was faster and more agile, but Jeralt had reach and leverage –and a stronger base. 

Felix was almost levitating. Claude didn’t think the boy had _blinked_ since the rest of the students had arrived and waved a hand across his face –almost having it bitten off in response. Sylvain snickered and shot him a ‘what can you do?’ look over the top of Felix’s head.

The clock chimed again before anyone was ready to hear it and the combatants sprang apart; weapons lowered, but still in stance. They regarded each other levelly for a moment.

“You’re holding back.” Byleth spoke, and there was something about her that suggested the statement wasn’t just an observation, but an accusation.

“I’m an old man; I need to warm up a little first.”

“You’re hovering.” She replied and Claude was now certain that that _was_ an accusation, that there had been frustration in her voice. Was she letting more emotion through or had he learned to read her better? Was anyone else hearing this?

“ **You’re** still favouring that wrist.” Jeralt replied, and as if in reflex Byleth rotated her right hand, the one that had been damaged by the Death Knight. “If you want me to take you seriously, then give me a proper challenge.”

A moment passed.

Byleth shifted her sword to a two-handed grip.

Jeralt spun his weapon back upright and adjusted his stance.

The clock chimed. 

Before it had finished ringing Byleth was on her back, spear tip at her throat. Her sword was extended up towards Jeralt’s ribs but the Captain of the Knights just sighed “And what’s _that_ going to do against an opponent in mail? Tickle them? At least _aim_ for where the gaps are going to be, Kid.” He pulled his spear away and reached a hand out for her to grasp. “Still, that was _almost_ your usual speed. Not bad for someone who’s been taking it easy on bedrest for half a moon. I suppose we can tell the Guildmaster you’re back in business.”

“You’re right,” Byleth answered as he pulled her to her feet “I am still favouring my wrist… I’ll do better.”

Jeralt grinned and then turned his attention to everyone who had gathered to watch. “Alright you brats, this isn’t a spectator sport, it’s a spar not a joust, who’s next?”

Felix and Leonie may well have teleported in front of him for how fast they left their seats. After a moment’s hesitation, to everyone’s surprise, Marianne followed them, but went to Byleth who stood leaning against a pillar, and in a further fit of boldness, took her hand in her own, already lit up with white magic. 

With Byleth’s wrist healed as much as possible without additional rest, Jeralt set Felix against her and took on Leonie.

“That was very kind of you.” Dimitri commented as Marianne returned to them. The girl flushed red and sat down quickly.

“I-it was nothing.” She demurred.

“It was very brave is what it was.” Hilda advocated, leaning forward in her own seat to wrap a supportive hug around her friend’s waist from behind, chin propped on her shoulder “Usually you’re so shy, where did that come from?”

“I-I guess… when you heal someone that… that close to the -to the edge… you, um, become invested? She doesn’t feel like… like a stranger to me anymore.” 

“Huh. Maybe that’s why Lindhart’s stuck around me for so long.” Caspar mused “How close to the edge are we talking here anyway?”

“She didn’t have a heartbeat” Marianne admitted quietly.

“Wow. That’s practically _over_ the edge. No wonder she lost just now.”

“Against a well-matched opponent the outcome may be decided in a single instant.” Edelgard spoke, eyes flicking between the fights happening before them “If you were to re-run that last bout a hundred times, Byleth would win fifty.” 

“Forty” Dimitri ventured “I don’t think she quite matches Captain Jeralt in single-combat yet.”

“ _Yet._ ” Claude agreed, and a glance was shared between the house leaders.

The game was afoot once more.

~o~*~o~

It began, and ended, first thing the next morning. Dawn hadn’t even broken.

Dimitri was closing the door to his room just as Claude exited his own with a jaw-cracking yawn.

Their eyes met.

It transpired that Claude was not above sprinting through the halls like a madman where anyone could see him. Dimitri gave chase, taking the stairs at the end of the hall three and even four at a time to close in on Claude’s lead.

They tumbled past the greenhouse just as the first light of day glinted off the ripples in the pond. Claude lost ground ducking round a squire bringing wood to the kitchens and Dimitri was on his heels, close enough to touch, as they rounded the pond to the alley leading to the market.

Neck-and-neck they all but jumped the stairs, stumbling at the bottom and were suddenly brought up short, gasping for air as Edelgard was revealed in the shadows, whirling round to fix them with a much more bleary-eyed version of her usual piercing stare.

“ **Un** _available_.” She snapped, the Guildmaster was beaming brightly behind her as his aides set up for the day.

Claude took a very obvious step behind Dimitri. The Prince drew himself up, glancing between Edelgard and the Guildmaster. “Who?” he managed

“Captain Jeralt.” She ground out, frustrated.

“Well,” said Claude, leaning heavily on the wall of the item shop and both heaving in air while fighting off another yawn –and losing “at least I won’t have to scheme my way around deadly mercenaries on either of your sides at the battle.” 

~o~*~o~

There were three Cardinals trusted and capable enough to take over Seteth’s ecclesial duties, but no-one else could stand in as Rhea’s advisor. Anything would have been a compromise, but they had at last managed to light upon a compromise that at least offered some benefit to the students;

Wednesday and Friday were to become half-days at the academy, with a range of specialised seminars offered in the morning. Attendance would be recorded; it did not matter which seminar the students went to, so long as they made it to one of them. To encourage them to spend the latter half of the day in study, extra assignments were also to be issued.

All of the Knights were asked to consider putting themselves forward to the list of people on rotation to give seminars, and the offer even came down to Byleth. It was a significant amount of coin for a morning’s work and the understanding that she would only be available at short notice when not on a mission.

She agreed provisionally; having not been formally schooled herself Byleth asked if she could first sit in on a couple to get a feel for what the expectations were.

That first Wednesday, listening to Manuela, she discovered a talent for white magic she would never have guessed at. On Friday she learned from the Knight, Catherine, about the differences to beware when fighting against or alongside a Relic and made a note to attend Hanneman’s next seminar on Crestology, which seemed related and had so far been completely outside her sphere of knowledge as a commoner.

She put together a couple of talks on swordplay and tactics, ruling over Sothis’s “helpful” commentary, and when they were done, she brought them to Willard and Sanderson.

They tore her delivery apart and she was sick of talking by the time they judged her “passable”.

She dreaded to think how much work went into being a full-time Professor if her few pre-planned talks could take so much effort. From having almost too much time for _herself_ now, a professor may have too little. No wonder Hanneman and Manuela were so enthusiastic in their personal pursuits; they had to be in order to carve any time out for them.

~o~*~o~

Flayn was… lovely, in a bright and overly enthusiastic way. Dorothea had made a sort of pet of her, Ferdinand took his role as shield more seriously when tasked with defending the girl, and Lindhart _stayed_ _awake_ whenever she spoke.

She _fit_ in the classroom with them, sliding into place so easily.

Seteth- _Professor Seteth_ \- didn’t overtly favour her in class, either. He called on each student evenly. _Perhaps_ he was a little more effusive, a little quicker, in his praise of her than the rest, but that was nothing to complain of.

She had already known that he cared for the students of the academy, but seeing it up close, being the recipient, was another thing entirely. Could it simply be the relief of no longer secretly running the class herself? Edelgard considered the notion –perhaps it was a factor, but it was not _all._

Flayn was lovely, and Seteth was a good man. Whatever their blood may be, they were not monsters. “Monica” suffered heavily in comparison.

But, she reminded herself, given the choice, they would side with the Immaculate One. She held on to that thought tightly.

The path beneath her feet had never seemed so uneven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next we have the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, but without Byleth there to tip the scales...
> 
> Place your bets now.


	10. My Very Existence...

Wyvern Moon

Byleth delivered her first seminar as early as she could, to get it over with. All three house leaders turned up, as well as a number of other students who had an interest in tactics. A very studious girl from the Blue Lions wrote down notes at a pace so furious she may have ripped the notebook she was using. Several times. And Leonie was right up front, of course.

She thought it went well. A few remained behind to ask questions or clarifications and Prince Dimitri lingered only to compliment her. It was gratifying to hear, and did much to improve her confidence though Sothis did tease her about it, accusing her of flirting once more.

Unfortunately, this strategy meant she missed Hanneman’s first seminar on Crestology, which had been running at the same time. She debated letting it go, but ultimately decided that if Crests and Relics could affect the outcome of a battle as Catherine had suggested, then it was an unacceptable gap in her knowledge, noble or not. So, later that afternoon she tracked him down to his office.

Hanneman was delighted to have a reason to stop assessing the assignments his class had turned in and expound on his favourite subject, even to a novice. And while “absolutely everything” that _could_ be explained to a novice in half an hour wasn’t much, it was enough to convince her that, Relics aside, a Crest alone wouldn’t turn the tide of battle too much in one direction or other. Some people would be stronger, some recover faster, some be better at magic, but that kind of variance happened naturally anyway in her experience. It seemed to her that a Crest was just an extra dice in the roll.

“-and of course, it is entirely possible that **you** possess a Crest.” Hanneman concluded his mini-lecture.

“I’m not a noble, though.” Byleth felt compelled to point out.

“No, perhaps not, but some ancestor of yours may have been. A Crest can skip many generations before resurfacing. And, given your skill –and your Father’s- it would not surprise me if the pair of you were descended from some noble line or other. Would you like to find out? I have a device here that will tell us momentarily if you do or not. Simply hold your arm out over it, yes, like so.” 

The magical device whirred a little as she held her arm in the space above it, mostly to appease the Professor than for her own curiosity. Very shortly the display changed

“What is this?” Hanneman exclaimed “It appears you do have a Crest, and one that I do not recognise at that! To think that there are Crests in the world that even I do not know of! What a discovery! I must consider this further, do pardon me, I cannot even begin to explain how exciting this is!”

“You’re welcome?” Byleth offered, only to be waved away as Hanneman focused entirely on his instruments, leaving her to wander, bemused, back to her billet.

~o~*~o~

They set out on their mission the next day, a full week ahead of the student’s departure for Grondor, towards the Holy Kingdom, and the north of House Charon –almost as far from Grondor as one could get, without turning further east to Gautier or Fraldarius.

Jeralt rode at the head of the column, Byleth and the mercenaries pacing behind, a regiment of Knights trailing them. Once they were firmly in Kingdom territory Byleth increased her pace to come alongside her father. Jeralt reached a hand down to pull her up into the saddle in front of him and set about maintaining a steady distance from everyone else.

“This is about as good as we’re going to get, Kid.” He murmured “Where would you like to start?” 

“Are we Noble?” she began, and Jeralt startled, head jerking back slightly.

“Not what I expected. Starting easy are we? Where’d that come from?”

Byleth shrugged one shoulder “Professor Hanneman says I have a Crest. I thought that was a Noble thing. Lineage and heritage and so on.”

“Sorry, Kid, there’s no castle for you to inherit.” Jeralt teased “I have a Crest, so I suppose it’s not unreasonable that you might too, but we Eisners have never been what you’d call _gentility_.” 

Byleth nodded, but then her eyebrows drew together as another thought occurred “What _are_ we Eisners, then?”

“Sailors and soldiers mostly, some merchants” Jeralt hummed. “There’s an Adrestian Admiral somewhere back on my Father’s side, before my Grandfather moved to the Kingdom... You may even have a fifth or sixth cousin of some sort from that line somewhere in the world. Nothing closer that I could think of. Both my parents were only children and your Mother had no family to speak of. It’s just you and me these days.”

Byleth’s hand tightened slightly on the arm keeping her in place in response to that. The sounds of the forest and their passage settled about them like a mantle. She let the motion of the horse rock her back against her Father’s chest so she could speak her next question quietly.

“Why do I need to avoid the Archbishop?”

Jeralt sighed “Rhea is…” he huffed, shaking his head “Short version or long version?”

“Both.” 

“I think Rhea is the reason you have no heartbeat. The reason you’ve always been so stoic. I don’t know what she did, how she did it, or what she expected, only that it must have happened the moment you were born –but I don’t trust her. Not like I used to. Not with _you_.”

“You think she… would harm me?” Byleth asked, aware that at the back of her mind Sothis was thinking furiously.

“Not as such. She went to a lot of effort to keep you alive, and… well, when I left the Knights I may have faked your death. She was upset… devastated even, and I’m sure that reaction was genuine; but without knowing _why_ I wouldn’t trust her to have your interests at heart and I never could get her to be explicit. Rhea has a lot of secrets… a _lot_ of secrets, whether yours plays into any of the events we’ve seen recently I couldn’t tell, and until I figure it out… just, be on your guard with her, alright, Kid?”

Byleth nodded and settled further against his chest. It was abominable form, but none of her mercenaries would begrudge her a few moments more with her father as she processed what he’d told her. 

She needed those moments as Sothis’s concern and confusion roiled through her

 _“Me.”_ The girl spoke her conclusion _“The most unusual thing about you is this connection between us. Rhea expected me. But why? And… what am I? What has my presence done to you?”_

~o~*~o~

The three professors headed to Grondor with their classes. None of them would step on the field in combat, but Seteth held the position of referee so it was natural, to help avoid bias, that Hanneman and Manuela also adjudicate.

They drew lots for the starting positions. The Blue Lions had the river, the Black Eagles the shrine and the Golden Deer the forest.

Everything else was up to the students.

~o~*~o~

Claude’s scheme was simple; play to the strengths of the Alliance. To that end he, Ignatz and Leonie were going to be the star players and if it all went right, nobody would notice they were until the very end, not even the rest of his troops.

Dimitri’s plan was simpler; charge the central hill and defend it against all comers; Ingrid and her pegasus would be pivotal against the magic of the Empire, and Dedue would stand bulwark against the Alliance.

Edelgard’s tactic was simplest; destroy all that stood against them.

The horns blew and Seteth announced the battle was joined

~o~*~o~

Taking the central hill proved easier than Dimitri had expected. The Golden Deer had held back their first move, and once he had defeated Bernadetta, Ingrid was free to tie up Dorothea’s advance while Felix engaged Petra and Ashe took over the weaponry to defend against the Black Eagle’s fliers. It was a good start, but he could not rest on his laurels; Edelgard was strong and giving Claude time to enact a scheme was never a good idea.  
Or… perhaps it wouldn’t be, if Lorenz wasn’t clearly breaking rank, forcing the Deer to move up to support him. He sent Dedue and Sylvain forward to meet their forces, holding back to break Lorenz’s wild flank himself.

There was no situation she could ever have composed that would have pushed Lindhart to the front line, but that was acceptable, his range was excellent, so Edelgard was content to leave him by the shrine as she advanced in the wake Caspar had left behind him. So long as she took out Ingrid or Felix before either could get to the healer, then her support line would remain secure. Petra was duelling Felix, and she was confident that Jeritza had honed her speed to an edge the boy could not hope to match before he was ousted. That left Ingrid who had taken Dorothea already and was making a play against Flayn…

Lorenz’s charge was a thing of beauty, really. The sort of thing paintings were made of; the _Knight_ _Errant_ , gallant, charming… and predictable.  
The moment he broke the line, Claude gave Ignatz the nod and made a show of ordering everyone else forward. After all, if he was moving against the top of the field, and Lorenz was providing a flashy distraction in the middle, then who was watching the river? Especially for mousy, honest-faced Ignatz?

It galled Felix to realise he was going to lose this skirmish. Petra was very difficult to hit and had an eye for openings that was unmatched; it was as though she could sense them forming and was already prepared to strike at them. He wasn’t entirely sure what was worse; that he _should_ have lost or that he _didn’t_ ; the longbow bolt took Petra’s last hit before she could finish him. It’s twin took his own a moment later and he shot a glare at Leonie as he retreated off the field.  
Actually, the worst thing was that Sylvain had to avenge him; sweeping the girl from her mount before she had a chance to switch to her lance to repel him. He wouldn’t let Felix live this down for _years_.

Annette was not a match for Hubert and the distraction of her defeat was enough for Edelgard to finally clip Ingrid out of the sky. She had been too late to save Flayn, and made a note to work on her accuracy. But that could wait; Dimitri had fended off Lorenz’s… spectacular, charge and would be sortieing out from the central hill soon. She would be prepared to meet him, even as Caspar charged ahead again to clash with Raphael, Ferdinand outriding him to drive off a still-fresh Hilda.

Ferdinand charged Hilda, and she smiled, remaining in place, out in the open with her axe held at ease as he approached. Once he was close enough she looked very pointedly to the side then back at him in just enough time to watch the blood drain from his face as he belatedly noticed Lysithea in the thicket nearby. She couldn’t enjoy it for too long, as Dedue stormed up and she was forced to finally raise her axe in defence.

If Ashe could snipe out Hubert and Lysithea, then he and Dedue could likely weather anything the Golden Deer had left to throw at them, presuming he could first deal with Edelgard. He had opened his mouth to give Ashe the order when he felt the cool press of an arrowhead against his neck

“A-Apologies, your Highness.” Ignatz said “But you’re out.”

“So I am” Dimitri agreed, glancing over his shoulder to see Ashe and Mercedes similarly retreating “I did not realise Lorenz had back-up”

“W-Well, to be honest; neither did Lorenz.”

“Help.” Lindhart called, lackadaisically, as though he’d really rather _not_ be helped so he would have an excuse to go nap but knew exactly what Lady Edelgard would have to say to that, and so called regardless. It was particularly infuriating to Hubert, but he whirled around anyway, aiming a bolt that would stop Sylvain (and how had they missed that he had gone so deep?) before he reached their healer. A volley from the weaponry on the central hill kicked up a cloud of dust and Hubert’s spell went wide. When it cleared, it was apparent that Sylvain had knocked the healer out of the battle “Oh, what a shame.” He said and Sylvain laughed even as the rider acknowledged Hubert’s second spell and followed Lindhart off the field.

~o~*~o~

The trouble with taking out the Blue Lions was that it left nothing between his fawns and the Black Eagles. He’d done the best he could to account for Lorenz’s inevitable… well, betrayal was the wrong word; insubordination? Foolishness? But it would really have been better to have him _now_ to back up Hilda and –yep, there went Marianne, mere moments before he could land the final shot on Caspar. Edelgard had taken the hill so he could assume Ignatz was out as well.

Dedue had ousted Hilda and then took up a desperate suicide charge against Lysithea, softening her just enough for Hubert… and then Claude realised he had done what he had promised himself he wouldn’t do.

He’d lost count.

He knew exactly how many of his own yellow-fletched arrows had been hits, and Leonie had kept a pretty straight path before Sylvain got her, so her orange-fletching was easy enough to pick out. Ignatz’s green though? Not so much. Should have asked for white.

And now it was down to him against Edelgard and Hubert.

If he could beat the pair of them, then hands down that would be the Golden Deer’s victory.

Claude was not stupid.

Against one he stood a fairly decent chance, if he could keep his range, but both? Not on this battlefield.

He couldn’t win. But if his maths was right (and it was a paper-thin margin) he _could_ not lose.

And him _not losing_ would probably piss her Highness off, so he’d count it as a win anyway.

Edelgard was advancing. While Hubert hung back waiting for the play –smart enough to know that Claude had one, but hopefully too late to do anything about it. Edelgard would never consider stooping to conquer, she was far too straightforward, but he suspected Hubert would see through his scheme if given the time.

The Princess was five paces away from the patch of forest he’d claimed as his sniper’s nest during the last stand when he dropped to a knee before her.

“I surrender.”

“You- what?”

“I surrender” he repeated and glanced over to where Seteth was hovering nearby and obviously _not_ blowing the horn that would signal the end of the battle. Did he have to convince her to _accept_ the surrender too? Was this punishment for the mushroom incident? Because he really hadn’t known –not important just now. “I can’t take the pair of you. Well, maybe I could, but the most likely outcome if I try it is getting my pretty face scuffed up, or worse, yours, and then still losing anyway; so, I surrender. What do you say Princess; do you have the heart to spare my pretty face?”

He turned a charming smile on her, very aware that some paces further back, Hubert was scanning the ground –He’d caught on to the scheme and was _doing the maths_. 

Edelgard sighed “If it will cease your prattling mouth, then I will-” “Lady Edelgard!” “-accept your surrender.”

Seteth blew the horn. Claude’s smile transformed into a grin and Hubert buried his face in his hand with a groan.

“The Battle of the Eagle and Lion is over!” Seteth proclaimed in his best parade-ground voice, carrying over to those who stood arrayed around the edges of the field “Victory belongs to the Black Eagle House… The prize goes to the Golden Deer.”

~o~*~o~

“Well that was… unexpected” Dimitri commented as the three of them each approached the rendezvous to confirm their respective house was prepared to set out. “Congratulations are in order though. Well done Edelgard –and you, Claude.”

Claude hummed a little but said nothing, though he was smiling and bouncing on his toes, eyes practically _alight_ with mischief, he kept his lips pressed firmly together. Edelgard scowled at him.

“I appreciate what you’re doing, but you are _just_ as insufferable silent as you are normally. You may as well speak.”

Claude’s smile split into a grin, bearing teeth as he winked at them “Ah, my dear Edelgard, I have to thank you for valuing my pretty face so highly. I know it’s my only redeeming feature but I figured there was really only a fifty-fifty chance you’d agree it was worth-”

“I take it back!” she exclaimed “Your silence is infinitely more preferable.” 

“I’ll tell you a secret then, honest truth, no tricks; the easiest way to silence me is to put me in front of a grand feast. The sort where everyone gets to mingle and chat, celebrating each other’s triumphs, ignoring the walls between houses and stuffing ourselves silly. Although I suppose you _could_ try to elicit the same effect with a fairly regular feast in the dining hall.”

Dimitri laughed “While I doubt anything as simple as a meal at Garreg Mach could silence you, the idea itself has merit –yes, why not celebrate the day, together?”

“Well, if I can’t celebrate annihilating you _entirely_ I suppose I can still celebrate the victory we did earn. Very well. Let’s make preparations once we return to the monastery."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MVP: Ignatz Victor
> 
> Dear Reader,  
> For your delight and edification, I now present the maths. Assume all unnamed units work out evenly:
> 
> Dimitri takes Bernadetta  
> Ingrid takes Dorothea  
> Dimitri takes Lorenz  
> Sylvain takes Leonie  
> Ingrid takes Flayn  
> Dedue takes Hilda  
> Sylvain takes Lindhart  
> Blue Lions: 7 
> 
> Hubert takes Annette  
> Edelgard takes Ingrid  
> Caspar takes Raphael  
> Hubert takes Sylvain  
> Caspar takes Marianne  
> Edelgard takes Ignatz  
> Hubert takes Lysithea  
> Black Eagles: 7
> 
> Leonie takes Petra  
> Leonie takes Felix  
> Lysitha takes Ferdinand  
> Ignatz takes Ashe  
> Ignatz takes Mercedes  
> Ignatz takes Dimitri  
> Claude takes Caspar  
> Lysithea takes Dedue  
> Golden Deer: 8
> 
> When it comes down to the final three, if Edelgard or Hubert take Claude they would draw even and as the last class standing the draw would go in their favour. The margin is paper thin.  
> I should know, I had to write it out on paper to get it right. Twice. After realising I’d forgotten to account for bloody Lorenz! Even despite him doing the whole charge ahead thing. And that if Ignatz actually hit Lindhart with the ballista as I'd indented then the Deer would be too far ahead, and it would have to be a Lion who took him out. Ignatz still wins MVP though. 
> 
> Most of you guessed the Deer would win, so half a point each*? Except HB_Nomad who gets an extra point for remembering that there was a kill count "victory" as well... just forgot that the Eagles had been training under Jeritza for the past half a year...
> 
> *points have no value


	11. My Home...?

Wyvern Moon

Byleth was glad when the students returned to the monastery, a few hours after her own arrival. Until that moment she’d been beset on all sides by the Knights she had travelled with on her Father’s mission, gushing over how incredible it had been to see the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon fighting side-by-side. How Jeralt had gotten away from it all she wasn’t sure, but suspected that he’d left her in the thick of it as a decoy –her father was generally a sociable creature, though not to the tune of his own praises.

Then, suddenly they were all caught up in a feast as the students piled in to the dining hall and told and retold their exploits on the field, eagerly latching on to any new audience, moving from seat to seat with little rhyme or reason to it. It took the attention away from the “Ashen Demon” and she was able to enjoy the abundance of food that appeared. 

At least until she found herself squashed in next to Sanderson. Byleth gripped his wrist the second he began to make that familiar slight-of-hand motion over a nearby goblet “Do not. Intoxicate. The students.”

“My dear leader, this is for _me_ , not _them_ ” he protested “look at them, they hardly need helping along just now. Well, except that one.” He added, lifting his chin in the direction of the Prince of Faerghus, who was leaning against a wall, watching the festivities more than partaking. “Pity for such a handsome young man not to be enjoying himself. And a Prince at that.”

Byleth watched the Prince for a moment and found she agreed. Sothis pulled forward the memory of him praising her so earnestly after her seminar, offering assurances she hadn’t quite known she’d needed to hear verbalised and she sighed, standing up to go return the favour.

She stuffed one of the sweet buns from the platter in front of her into her mouth first, though. Chewing veraciously as she weaved her way around the room towards him.

“Your Highness” she greeted him, as she came alongside.

“Miss Eisner” he returned, straightening and turning to face her directly “good evening.”

“Are you not hungry?” she prompted glancing back at the long tables as more trays and platters were brought out from the kitchens “Everyone else is …enthusiastic” she finished.

“Ah,” he hesitated then gave her a rueful smile “I’m afraid the taste of defeat overcomes all.”

Byleth nodded, considering. She hesitated a long moment putting her words together “Defeat is… generally a better instructor than dinner partner. What did you learn from her?”

Dimitri’s eyes widened and he stared at her, silent. Byleth met his gaze, unconcerned by it, until at last he looked away and let out a chuckle, folding his arms across his chest “I held myself back too much. I should never have sent Dedue forward; I should have gone myself, exchanged our places.” He closed his eyes as though reliving those moments, those decisions “I let myself be distracted. Claude is very clever –he’s already painting it as a great depth of understanding between Gloucester and Riegan, that Lorenz knew exactly what was needed. Another hour and Lorenz might believe it himself, but… it was so clearly insubordination and I could not… could not let it pass unmet. Dedue would have managed as well and would have been better able to hold the hill. My strength would have served better spent against Caspar and Raphael, then Edelgard.” 

“It seems you’ve learned much.”

“Yes,” he agreed, looking back to her with a smile “perhaps I have. The right person to the right job. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Byleth replied, with a gentle smile of her own.

“On that note,” he continued, eyes searching her face “I hope you would consider that the right job for you may be in the Kingdom. Blaiddyd is in need of generals, I could instruct my regent to make you an offer ere the moon wanes. Even as high as the Royal Guard should you desire it, although that appointment would have to wait until I can claim the crown.” 

Of all the things she could have thought of in that moment, what struck Byleth the most was the _awareness_ that her eyebrows had raised. She had not deliberately _willed_ the expression, it had simply _happened_. She schooled herself back to neutrality, although one corner of her mouth remained pulled upward

“I am not presently in any hurry to end my current contract. Should an offer be made I would, of course, consider it seriously…” she trailed off, watching the wry twist to his expression, as if her careful not-exactly-a-rejection had been expected “But you ought time it carefully. My Father has often advised that no-one of sense _chooses_ to step foot in Faerghus between the Red Wolf and the Great Tree Moon. Should I accept then, you’d have to question my judgement.” 

Dimitri blinked then burst into laughter, drawing a number of eyes to them “I had not thought that the great Captain Jeralt could be such a delicate southern flower! For shame, I cannot let this stand! The weather may be cold, but the welcome in Faerghus is always warm. In fact,” he added, smile growing and posture straightening somehow, an air of something regal touching him “irrespective of all else, next year, once I’ve returned to Fhirdiad, you must come visit for the Ethereal Celebrations. Tell me then that no-one of sense would visit my Kingdom, if you dare.”

 _“Yes!”_ Sothis answered immediately _“Celebration s must mean dancing and song! Of course we would go! Yes! Say Yes! Why have you not said yes already!?” _

Byleth, smiling openly both for Dimitri and Sothis, offered her hand to shake “Very well, I shall accept your invitation. Next year.”

“Next year.” He agreed, taking her hand -but instead of shaking, drew it up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

~o~*~o~

“I am _so_ proud!” Sylvain said. “Little Dimitri, all grown up and putting the moves on women!”

“ _Sylvain_ , don’t be ridiculous. As if his Highness would –oh! Is she smiling?” Ingrid exclaimed, as she looked over her shoulder in the direction Sylvain was beaming.

“She’s actually kinda cute with that expression” Hilda added “That whole blank-faced-killer thing she usually has going on is _so_ creepy, but this? _Much_ better.”

“Are we talking about Miss Eisner?” Ferdinand asked “I have heard much today about her exploits on her last mission. The Knights say they were hardly even needed; Captain Jeralt and his daughter could have handled the situation alone. Truly, they are the standard for martial prowess all nobles should aspire to!”

“Beautiful and deadly, with a smile only rarely bestowed –it’s enough to make a girl swoon.” Dorothea sighed.

“Soooooo –you’re telling me that if I smiled _less..._ ”

Claude rolled his eyes and Edelgard shook her head as Sylvain derailed the conversation. Each casually drifted off to other groups, but kept an eye on the couple by the wall.

~o~*~o~

Dimitri had found his appetite restored, and brought Byleth to a space at one of the tables where she was able to snag a couple more of the sweet buns before, somehow, over the course of a half-hour, finding herself on first name terms with the majority of the Officer’s Academy.

 _“And why not? They are your peers.”_ Sothis remarked as she finally slipped away, pausing for a moment to admire the light that the stars and the last sliver of the waning moon cast on the pond.

“ _it isn’t WrongBad.”_ She thought in reply _“just –Much._ ”

_“Hmmm… it is a shame we are not more alike in this. You are wearied, yet I feel more energized. Still, I suppose it would be a dull world indeed, if everyone was the same.”_

_“It might be better, when I’m not meeting so many new people all at once.”_ Byleth considered, drawing on unfocused memories of tavern after nameless tavern, wedged in at her Father’s side and surrounded by mercenaries; comfortable at least listening to the conversation, if not always actively participant.

 _“Perhaps.”_ Sothis allowed, then added; _“You do realise you left Sanderson and the rest unsupervised?”_

Byleth froze on the path back to her room as the possible implications and outcomes ran through her head

“ _I’ll chance the lecture.”_ She decided, starting forward again. She simply lacked the energy to return to the crowd. Even Seteth’s monologue on appropriate conduct was more appealing.

~o~*~o~

Red Wolf Moon

When they were both in the monastery, it was usual for Byleth and Jeralt to seek each other out for at least one meal a day. It was less usual for them to go looking for each other while there was work to be done, so it concerned her that he would come out to the billet and interrupt her drills with the swordsmen in her command.

She gave Raoul a signal to take over and stepped aside to speak with her father.

“Something’s happening over in Remire.” He began “Couple of patrols have been sent out, some scouts, nothing that’s come back is any good; some strange sickness turning people violent. Rhea wants to send one of the classes to investigate and assist but… well, the people there have been good to us. I’d like to head out in advance and take a look. You checked in with the Guildmaster yet?”

“Not yet. The company is still assigned to you; I’ll take us off the Academy list when I go by. When do we leave?”

“A few days yet. Shamir, one of the scouts, isn’t back and I’d like to get her read on things first. I’ll let you know when I hear anything more.” Byleth nodded and Jeralt clapped her shoulder before heading back. Byleth fell in with the drills, letting Raoul continue to lead as Sothis mused in her head;

_“Remire village… it stands apart in your memories; a place you and your Father have been many times. Everything else is endless stretch of road after endless stretch of road. Have you never had a home? It is little wonder you have so few memories of your childhood; there is nothing to link them together. Even I-”_

_“…Sothis?”_

_“Zanado. My home was called Zanado. I recall… walls, courtyards, gardens… great joy and crushing despair. Every feeling between. But none of the people. There must have been people in such a place…”_

_“We could look it up, if you like?”_ Byleth offered, thinking of the library and all the maps it contained. She had avoided it, on account of Sothis’s unease with Tomas, but was fairly confident she could navigate it without assistance, if they went late enough.

 _“Perhaps later, all of this remembering”_ a yawn _“-really… takes it out… of me…”_

~o~*~o~

Byleth had taken a seat at the back of the Golden Deer classroom where Manuela was preparing to give another seminar on magic and medicine. She had rather hoped that sitting at the back, no-one would notice she was there and question it; she had, technically, been given permission to attend a few seminars -but not indefinitely.

Her plan went rather out of the window when Claude slid into the space next to her.

“Good morning, Milady Mercenary. It must be my lucky day; I’d have thought you’d be in Alois’s class if you were here at all.”

“Good morning. No, I’m trying to learn white magic. I can’t heal much more than a papercut, but I know the rest of it is… _there_. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use magic?”

“I doubt you ever will; I don’t have the knack for it, so you can have plenty of practice on all my papercuts.” He added, winking at her “I’m actually here for the _medicine_ part. I’m something of a chemist, you know. Always pays to know how to mix your own antidotes.” 

Byleth’s eyebrows twitched downwards in the slightest of frowns “Does it? I rarely encounter poisons –except the self-inflicted kind. Knowing a good hangover-cure is essential in a mercenary company, I grant you.”

“I can imagine.” Claude agreed “Perhaps poisons aren’t what the people around here would call _honourable_ , but I like having options available, so knowing how to counter them is essential.” Byleth hummed a little, considering that and he turned back to readying his notebooks and quill, glancing at her as he did. “Is my face that interesting?” he asked, when he’d finished and her gaze still hadn’t dropped.

“Oh,” she started and turned back to her own notes “sorry. It’s just –you don’t act like the other nobles. You’re… less formal?”

“Can I take that as a compliment?” he asked, leaning into her space with a teasing grin.

“If you want. I don’t think it’s a bad thing.” She answered, and then a slow smile at some internal thought lit her face “It would be a dull world indeed, if everyone were the same.”

His grin eased into a smile and for once Byleth thought his eyes matched the rest of his expression in sincerity; “We should all take the time to get to know each other, and get along, right?”

She nodded and they left the conversation there as Manuela called the room to order, but she felt as though some sort of accord had formed between them.

~o~*~o~

Manuela flagged her down at the end of the seminar, making eye contact and raising a finger to ask her to wait while she answered the few questioners that came to her at the end as everyone else filed out. Claude lingered over packing up, keeping her company and bowing aside gracefully (and then ruining the effect with a wink) as the Professor arrived.

“Just the woman, I’ve been meaning to come see you.” Manuela began, linking her arm through Byleth’s familiarly and leading them off towards the reception hall “I promised you a concert, and I intend to deliver. Friday evening some of the students are putting on, well, an _operetta_ , rather than a true _opera_ , in the cathedral. Everyone is welcome to come; are you prepared to hear me in all my glory? I can safely promise no-one will stab you this time.”

Byleth smiled as Sothis laughed, joyous, within her “Thank you for the assurance, I’d be delighted.”

“Wonderful!” Manuela disengaged as they reached the point where she would turn north to return to the second floor and Byleth south to go back to the barracks “Nine bells sharp. I expect some of the students will be dressing for the occasion, but don’t feel obligated. Can’t have the audience showing up the performers now, can we?” Manuela winked and began to sashay away “And do invite that charming fella!” she called back.

The opera wasn’t really Raoul’s idea of a good evening out. He preferred the Bishop’s Regret.

It _was,_ however, Sanderson’s.

He was ready an hour early and cajoled Byleth and Willard (whom he’d somehow wrangled into attending) out of the door as soon as the time came when they wouldn’t be _ridiculously_ early.

The nave of the cathedral was bustling as staff, students and clergy mingled, chatting and forming groups before making their way to a space on a pew. Squeezing her way through the crush, Byleth found herself separated from her men and standing in a calm spot with Edelgard as Hubert’s chilling presence kept everyone else away. Somehow their greetings turned into an offer to sit together and she then found herself walking at the Princess’s elbow as Hubert cleared the way for them to the front –where else would the Imperial Princess sit after all?

“If you would pardon my ignorance,” Byleth began as politely as she knew how once they had settled “what is the difference between an opera and an operetta?”

“Length, mostly.” Edelgard answered with a slight smile and a side-glance “Tone as well. There are _some_ comedic operas, but they still tend towards the dramatic. An operetta is shorter and lighter. It would be a good introduction to the art, if you’ve never been before.”

“Do you go often?”

“No, not at all.” Edelgard shook her head, breaking her perfect posture to face Byleth more directly “I rarely have the time for such things. But, tonight Dorothea is leading, Bernadetta had a hand in the props and costumery, there are a number of Black Eagles in the chorus and Ferdinand has been… _enthusiastic,_ to say the least. As House Leader –as the Princess of Adrestia, I should encourage talent and _effort_ , no matter the arena.”

“That is admirable…” Byleth returned, wondering if she was as good a leader to the troop as the Princess was clearly trying to be for her house and country.

“I’m glad you think so.” 

The musicians began tuning their instruments and there was a sudden surge of people into seats as the candles that had lit the pews for the audience were doused, leaving only the area up front, the “stage” well lit.

In the space between their souls, Sothis brimmed with anticipation. Byleth allowed the feeling to bridge over, joining the girl as the conductor made a movement with his hand and a pregnant silence fell…

Byleth had thought she knew what music was. She had certainly _heard_ drums and flutes and fiddles. Had listened as men and women sang ballads and ditties in crowded halls. An orchestra however, even an amateur one, was a different beast entirely. The first roll of the drums quickened her pulse and every subsequent instrument built on that steady base until the music was a physical presence in the room; it tingled across her skin, reaching down into muscle; she could feel the very breath in her lungs tremble.

She sat with eyes wide and rapturous, mouth slightly agape. Edelgard glanced at her and was unable to restrain a smile, reaching across to hold her hand. “You look like you need it.” She whispered as the instrumentation began to quiet and the chorus picked up the harmony for the first time. Byleth could do little more than clutch that hand like a lifeline. Edelgard made no protest, not even when Dorothea began her first aria and Byleth’s grip tightened like a vice. Sothis was _effervescent_ with delight; between her reaching _out_ and the music reaching _in_ , Byleth’s reserve was wholly undone.

She didn’t drop hold of Edelgard’s hand until the very end, when the performers came forward to receive their well-deserved ovation. Byleth clapped just as enthusiastically as the rest of the audience. 

As the applause finally died the performers were swept into the crowd as friends rushed to congratulate each other personally. 

“Edie!” Dorothea called, gliding forward “Did you love it? Was I magnificent? Tell me you loved it!”

“You were wonderful, Dorothea, just as expected.”

“Oh, I could just float away right now! Hubie, what did you –No, never mind, you’ll just agree with Edie. What did you think?” the diva asked in a whirl, turning bright eyes on Byleth.

Byleth tried to answer, she did. Her mouth moved and her hands gestured but no words came. At last she shrugged.

“Oh, my goodness. I’ve actually left someone speechless!” Dorothea squealed in pure elation, performer’s high coursing through her and she pulled Byleth into a crushing hug “Not the most _eloquent_ compliment, but it beats everything in sincerity! Can you believe this Edie?”

“Quite easily.” The Princess answered dryly, stretching her hand out gently against her hip.

“I must find Ingrid, we got her all dressed up for tonight, you know? But thank you, so much!” the songstress pressed a quick kiss to each of Byleth’s cheeks and fluttered off, leaving the mercenary stunned.

Edelgard refrained from laughing at her, but it was a close run thing. “You must excuse Dorothea, and don’t take it personally. She is not _quite_ herself at the moment.”

“Or too much herself?” Byleth ventured, finding her voice at last. “I’m not offended.”

“No, I could tell. You’ve enjoyed this evening immensely. It’s heartening to see.”

“Music is a gift from the Goddess.” The Archbishop spoke suddenly, coming to stand with them, eyes focused on Byleth “I am glad indeed to see so many young people here tonight, enjoying the art.” 

Edelgard and Hubert gave polite greetings and engaged Rhea in a discussion of the performance as Manuela, whether by accident or design, approached and swept Byleth off with admonishments for not bringing “the charming fella”.

She had never had such an issue before, so she could have no idea that her smile had vanished and the resurgence of her perfectly composed, neutral face was by contrast more of a tell of her apprehension than almost anything else could have been. She was not comfortable with the Archbishop and several people around the room took note of it.

Not least the Princess and her ever-present shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has a paralogue, which can be read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265076)


	12. To Cause Even Your Heart to Beat...

Red Wolf Moon

The Blue Lions had been assigned the mission to Remire by the time Shamir returned. Jeralt grumbled about it but agreed that it might be best to hold back their own departure until the students were ready to move out.

“Dark magic… if there’s one thing you don’t mess around with, Kid, it’s dark magic. I don’t want to wait too long, but I’d rather have Hanneman with us than not if that sort of thing is going on.”

“We could still go ahead.” She assured him “Just as their vanguard, rather than a force of our own.”

“It may come to that” he sighed “If you could pick up the reports from the rest of the knights, then-”

Her heart beat, one single thump. Her head swam, her vision tunnelled. Suddenly she was on the floor and her Father was crouched in front of her. Sothis was sending her that feeling of _Alarm_ and _Wrong_.

“Hey, you with me? What was that?” 

“I… was suddenly dizzy.” She answered, shifting to her knees. Jeralt frowned and put the back of his hand against her forehead to gauge her temperature, before tracing a finger in front of her eyes. She followed it dutifully until it came too close and she blinked, rearing her head back and pushing his arm away.

Jeralt gave her a hand back to her feet and kept a grip on her forearm until he was sure she was steady. “I’ll give you two options here, Kid; back to the infirmary to let Manuela give you a check up or down to the barracks to have a nap.”

“I’ll take the nap; it seems to have passed.” She caught his look and added; “If it happens again I’ll go straight to Manuela.”

He nodded slowly “See that you do. I’ll gather the reports and we’ll go through them later, alright?”

“Alright” she agreed, and squeezed his arm, indicating for him to let her go. He sighed and ruffled her hair as he turned to chase after the knights and she to make her way back to the barracks.

“ _What was that?_” She asked Sothis

_“I –I do not know. Was it you? Or was it me, and you were simply caught in the wave? For a moment I thought –I recognised something, but it eludes me. I am… I am very tired, suddenly.”_

Sothis fell asleep almost immediately, not like her usual slow drift. Byleth frowned, considering; the feeling of _wrongness_ was the same as that other occurrence in the library. She was approaching the gatekeeper now, and hailed him.

“Greetings, Miss Eisner! Nothing to report today!”

“Have you seen Tomas around, Anthony?”

“Not recently, I suppose that _is_ something to report. He left around the start of this moon, but he’s been gone before for weeks at a time so we’re not concerned just yet. Oh, and presently Lord Arundel is visiting the monastery, it’s been a long while since he was last here, apparently there’s been some trouble in his territory.”

The name meant nothing to Byleth, but she marked it regardless, and thanked him, moving on.

If Tomas wasn’t in the monastery, then perhaps that first feeling of Alarm in the library had been a coincidence of timing? She wouldn’t rule it out, in any case.

And, if the librarian was absent, Sothis wouldn’t need to worry while they looked out mentions of Zanado. She would go today, after speaking with her father. 

~o~*~o~

Another week passed, in training, taking the troop to participate in tournaments and mock battles against the students. She took solo trips to the cathedral to hear the choir or to the library to research Zanado; undisturbed except for the occasional presence of an interested Claude or interested, but also sleepy, Lindhart. She gave another seminar, visited the sauna, had tea again with Edelgard, lunch with Manuela, and the mission could almost be forgotten –things were peaceful. Until her Father paid his next visit to the barracks.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

Jeralt’s Mercenaries were well trained. When the man himself spoke in that tone of voice they all jumped to comply. Supplies kept ready for just this occasion were grabbed and they assembled outside the billet in less than a minute.

Byleth ran an eye over the line and nodded approvingly. They set out at a quick pace down the mountain, Jeralt walking his horse beside her as he caught her up to speed.

“New report came in. Things are escalating in Remire, so we’re moving out now. Hanneman is gathering the brats as we speak and they’ll be right behind us.”

Byleth nodded her understanding and dropped back, leading the troop as they marched in double-time.

~o~*~o~

There were voices on the wind as the familiar shape of Remire’s windmill came into view, angry and shouting, but there was no clash of swords or weapons accompanying it.

Yet, as they came closer, Sothis’s unease rose. The girl tempered it, kept it controlled, but it still put Byleth on edge; that feeling of _Wrong_.

They advanced into the town and the feeling shifted, turning into pinpricks across her skin. Her heart beat. One single thump. She pressed a hand against it.

“Dad,” she said, and Jeralt reined in immediately; Byleth never addressed him as anything other than ‘Sir’ or ‘Boss’ on a job, not ever “something’s not right.”

The house nearest them burst into flames. Suddenly it was pandemonium.

~o~*~o~

When the Blue Lions caught up, Byleth was fending off two deranged villagers while a child scrambled between her legs to get away. She slew one of them with a two-handed swing that separated head from body, spinning on her heel to kick the other in the chest on the follow-through, forcing him back.

She was standing in someone’s herb garden, she realised suddenly, sage and lemon-thyme crushed beneath her boots as she widened her stance to block sight of the child making his escape over the garden wall from her opponent as he advanced again, eyes clouded white and veins pulsing.

It made for a nicer scent than smoke and burning flesh. 

“I’ll have some fun here too.” The Death Knight announced, riding into a clearing at the back of the village.

“ ** _You!_** ” Jeralt shouted and his horse charged past behind her, taking him across the field to engage the Death Knight. The villager struck at her and Byleth twisted her sword, but not quickly enough to disarm her opponent, and they were forced to disengage from each other.

Hanneman’s voice called out instructions to the Blue Lions, and Ingrid fluttered overhead on her way to rescue as many civilians as she could. Dimitri’s presence, darker than she had imagined he could be, rolled up the path behind her. It distracted her enough for her opponent to get a strike in, pommel glancing against her temple, and her head rang with the blow.

But he had sacrificed his guard to land it. Moving instinctually through the daze, her sword opened up a deep gash from hip to shoulder and he fell. Byleth shook her head to get her bearings again, mind clearing and eyes fixing in the distance just in time to watch with perfect clarity as the Death Knight killed her Father.

It wasn’t clean. The scythe had caught the edge of his neck, and torn a bloody swathe across it. Byleth knew he was dead even as he remained astride his horse, eyes locked with hers over the distance and drowning in his own blood. The noise of the battlefield fell away, her breath came shallow, her stomach felt like ice. There was nothing but her Father’s eyes and the Death Knight’s voice echoing hollowly in the space between them.

“Is that all there is…? No challenge? No… resistance?”

Byleth was not gentle when she first took hold of the hands of time.

“ ** _You!_** ” Jeralt shouted. Byleth disarmed her opponent with a harsh twist and thrust her sword through his heart, withdrawing the blade before he had even died. She spun and took a couple of running steps to the nearby garden wall and leapt from there to the back of her father’s horse as he charged past. He grunted an acknowledgement, but kept on his course across the field.

Hanneman’s voice called out instructions to the Blue Lions, and Ingrid fluttered overhead. Her father urged the steed on and they leapt up the stairs cut into the rise of the slope. Byleth jumped off into a thicket, keeping to the shadows and trailing alongside as Jeralt cleared the Death Knight’s outriders before squaring off with the man himself.

They passed each other a couple of times, blows exchanged, but ineffectual. Jeralt was a master horseman and the Knight’s steed was well armoured, so the riders focused on each other, searching for the opening that would see the other exposed.

Byleth had to act before the Death Knight found it again, but she knew what to do, the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon were known as an unstoppable pair for a reason. Her father was aware she was nearby this time around; he was fighting nearer to her position in the treeline than she had seen him previously. Her throat tightened and she swallowed against it as that sense of _time_ told her they’d reached that same horrific moment -but already it was different now. The riders were out of position; the Death Knight was about to pass her…

Some sixth sense, that survival instinct all who lived by the blade kept honed to the sharpest edge, caused him to look round and meet her gaze, but it was a moment too late. Byleth released the branch she had pulled taught and it snapped back into its natural alignment, sweeping the Death Knight off his horse. He landed heavily in his armour, but rolled and rose up again like a nightmare. 

Byleth darted in close; she couldn’t afford to give him room or leverage for a proper swing, nor could she give him time to get his bearings –instead pressing every advantage she could find to keep his attention focused on _her_ and _off_ the Blade Breaker. She tested his motion where he’d been wounded previously and was not surprised to find it uncompromised; likely he’d had his shoulder tended even before she woke from their last encounter. Up close she realised part of his helm had been recast in silver and his eye glared out from the socket, disconcerting against the rest of the black ensemble. 

He tested her as well, attempting that quick motion that had broken her guard before, but she was ready for it, keeping in close and pressing him further out into the open. Thundering hooves alerted him to a charge and he fell back again –but it was his own horse, riderless, that flew past. His dodge assisted his opponent as Jeralt, himself dismounted, levelled a piercing thrust at his back. In the next instant Byleth’s sword found the gap between helm and neck.

Jeritza von Hrym had breathed his last.

~o~*~o~

There was no respite, Jeralt waved her ahead as he called his horse back to him and she started sprinting to the centre of the village where Dimitri was confronting Tomas.

And then it wasn’t Tomas, it was Solon, and Sothis’s unease with the librarian turned out to be entirely justified.

“ _Don’t mess with dark magic”_ she thought to herself as she tackled the Prince out of the way of a spell that singed the ends of her hair as it passed over them. Dimitri was not pleased

“What do you think you’re doing!? Do not stop me; I will crush his skull! This cannot be allowed to continue!”

“The right person to the right job, Dimitri!” She answered quickly, sharply, rolling away from another blast “Don’t charge in alone. Where is your battalion? Where are Ingrid and Professor Hanneman?” 

Some of that dark madness that had taken up residence beneath his eyes cleared and a moment later the Prince’s commanding voice called out to the rest of the Lions. Jeralt arrived, calling out to his own troops and Byleth scrambled into formation

Solon made his escape

~o~*~o~

There was no respite. The entire village had been set to flame. The villagers who had family nearby to go to, would; everyone else was welcome to return with them to the monastery, to seek sanctuary there. Raoul found a couple of wagons that had escaped the conflagration and the mercenaries started loading up the children and elderly who would be coming with them. Hanneman had taken a number of students around the edges of the village to ensure there was a good clearcut and the fire would not spread out to the surrounding area.

Raoul stretched his back out and scoffed on catching sight of Byleth lifting a pair of small children into one of the wagons, settling them with quiet words and a gentle smile. “Demon’s going soft. There’ll be bloody _romance_ next, mark my words.”

“I know!” Sanderson added, in rather the opposite tone than Raoul had taken. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Ease up there, Sanders. Don’t you start playing matchmaker with the Little Boss. What’ud the Boss say?” Asked Willard.

“He’d say Byleth can handle herself and you three should stop gossiping like old fishwives.” Jeralt interjected, startling them. “There’s still work to be doing, so get on with it.” 

Chagrined, they moved off and a new voice cut in “Excuse me, Captain Jeralt,” Annette asked “have you seen Mercie? I can’t find her.”

“Miss Martritz? Did she go with Hanneman?” Annette shook her head and Jeralt sighed “Right, it’s never that easy. Byleth!” He called, and she loped over “One of the students is unaccounted for. Not here, didn’t go with the Professor. I’ll see about getting the wagons hitched up while you take a look. Good idea to make one more sweep of the village anyway.”

Byleth nodded and stalked off, carefully skirting the hottest areas and stirring up ash in her wake. The ruined husk of the windmill cast shade over her as she made her way round the back of the village, where the buildings had caught but the forest was yet unsinged. With luck it would stay that way.

She came across Mercedes as she entered the clearing where the Death Knight had fallen. He was still there, lying in a patch of bloodied earth. Mercedes had removed his helm, set it aside and was kneeling beside him, one of his hands held in hers as she watched his face, eyes carefully focused above his ruined neck.

Byleth paced forward slowly, coming to a halt at her side. Stirring from her thoughts, Mercedes drew a deep breath “Here ends the legacy of House Bartels. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you from it, Emile.” She set his hand on his chest and pulled the other one across to join it, hesitating for one last moment before standing to face the mercenary.

“I’m sorry, am I holding everyone up?” 

“Not yet, we just weren’t sure where you were.”

“My apologies I –” she hesitated, adjusting her shawl more tightly around her and gazing out across the village “-a lot of innocent people have died today, haven’t they? Do I have time, do you think, to say a prayer for them?”

“Go ahead” Byleth encouraged, standing aside as Mercedes bowed her head and spoke the ritual words. She was covered in soot, ash and worse things. Her skin felt tight from so much exposure to heat, but an extra minute or so now would make no dif- 

“…receive them into a Blue Star, O Goddess Sothis, and guide their spirits to rest.”

-ference.

A cold drop of _understanding_ rolled down Byleth’s neck all the way to the end of her spine, leaving tremors in its wake.

_“What!?”_ Said Sothis, and the adrenaline of battle, so recently faded, rose in her again.

When they had gone to the library to discover where Zanado was, all the references to it had been “The Holy Land, Zanado”, and several of the texts of the Seiros faith, referenced in the best Atlas of Fódlan they could find, called it “The home of the Goddess”, “Where the Goddess dwelt in Fódlan”.

The Goddess had lived in Zanado.

The Goddess’s name was Sothis.

Sothis, _her_ Sothis, had given her god-like power over the flow of time.

“Rhea expected _me_ ” they had concluded, only last moon.

Now, Byleth believed she knew _why_.

~o~*~o~

The Church had sent a rearguard after them, and the Knights arrived fresh to the fight only to be set the task of watching the fire burn out safely while everyone else returned to Garreg Mach.

“Well, this seems familiar.” Sanderson quipped as Byleth and Mercedes re-joined them. He attempted to brush some soot from her face but ended up only smearing it “Wouldn’t you say, _Ashen_ One?”

“Not at all.”

“Granted, there isn’t an _entire_ _mountain_ ablaze this time, and you’re not _quite_ so covered, but you still kept vanishing in and out of the smoke like a spirit.”

“It weren’t the _entire mountain_ in the first place, Sanders!” Willard protested, and Sanderson winked at her before bounding forwards between the wagons as they began to move off.

“’twas! And I’ll tell you all, if you like. Who wants to hear the tale of how the Ashen Demon got her name?”

The children in the wagons settled as Sanderson started weaving a story around them. It had a far greater resemblance to a fairy tale than the battle which _had_ earned her the ‘Ashen’ part of the name –but that was probably not a story you told to children who’d just seen their homes burn. Even Willard recognised that much, and gave over heckling the inaccuracies.

Jeralt’s horse had been needed to pull the wagons, so she dropped back until she was walking beside him, then slowed her pace further. Jeralt caught the hint and matched her until they were bringing up the rear.

“I’ve figured out what she wants from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what happened there, is I leaned so hard on that one particular parallel between Jeralt and a certain _other_ father of a blue-haired mercenary that we fell through the universe into the cut-scene from another game… 
> 
> If you _got_ the reference, and _want_ to torture yourself further, then it is on [YouTube here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72ryey7zrWM&t=290s), cut-scene starts at 2:33 and the line I used is at 4:40
> 
> If you didn’t get the reference, then just… don’t. It only hurts. 
> 
> And, yes, yes I did actually just kill someone who usually has more time in cannon. Happy Easter?


	13. You and He

Red Wolf Moon

News of Tomas, of Solon, and his experiments, did not stay contained. The monastery was awhirl with the news; how could no-one have noticed Tomas betrayed them? What sort of sorcery _was_ that? Did this have anything to do with Flayn’s kidnapping? Had the Death Knight really met his end?

And beneath all that, a darker rumour swirled; what had overcome the Prince of Faerghus?

Edelgard knew more of the answers to those questions than anyone might expect, except that last. Dimitri was a significant piece on her board; the lynchpin of the Kingdom, if he was compromised, ready to topple, she needed to know of it, needed to determine how much he would take down with him when he fell. Needed to know whether or not she could point him at that troublesome woman, Cornelia. Edelgard would rest much easier had she one of her _own_ agents in the Kingdom, Ladislava would do; Randolph was too recognizable.

Losing Jeritza had been a blow; certainly he had been wild, formed into something rabid by the cruelty of House Bartels, but at least **she** had held his leash. Now she would have to find a new heir for the Hrym territory before Prime Minister Aegir got it in his head to do something foolhardy.

No, that was a concern for later. Frustrating Duke Aegir was probably best left to Hubert in any case. Just now she must focus on Dimitri.

She made her way along the dormitory to the male end of the corridor, knocking sharply against the Prince’s door. He called out to grant her entry, and she pushed the door open, leaning propped against the doorjamb. Dimitri was working at his desk and made to rise to greet her, but she waved him down

“Please –I heard you had a difficult time of it at Remire. I only came to see you recovered. Is all well?”

“Ah…” he hesitated “Thank you. I am well –or, I will be. It was… For a moment, it was too much like Duscur, that is all.” Edelgard allowed a beat of silence to play out and, surely enough, he continued; “In some ways it was worse. Duscur was a nightmare, but this… this was _evil_ , those people were-” He cut himself off as his voice began to rise and looked away for a moment as he mastered his temper “Were innocents. _Civilians_. With no quarrel against anyone. Twisted by magic for no reason. It’s… too much to contemplate.”

“I’m sorry you saw it, sorry it happened at all” Edelgard murmured, with perfect honestly, before drawing a breath and speaking more clearly; “Now that Professor Seteth is guiding us, managing the Black Eagles has become a far simpler task on my end. If you need a reprieve, I’d be happy to lend a hand.” 

“Thank you, I’ll consider it.” Dimitri replied, and she turned to leave but his voice cut her off before she could close the door. “El,” he began and Edelgard _froze_ , staring at the wall in front of her, not daring to turn to face him once more. A dim sort of terror chilled her bones as realisation creeped tingling over her skull and tightened in her throat. Dimitri had called her –Dimitri had always called her –Dimitri was- “the people who did this, they have to be stopped, no matter where they appear, Garreg Mach, the Kingdom, the Empire, the Alliance. We cannot allow these – _experiments_ \- to continue.”

“No,” she agreed softly without turning “we cannot.”

She returned to her room, face carefully impassive, stride as even as it ever was. But the whole way there her hand was clenched around the dagger sheathed at her waist so tightly that the outline of the hilt was imprinted on her palm.

~o~*~o~

“Can you believe he won’t start a tab?” Jeralt groused as he brought two tankards over to Byleth. The table she had claimed was the most visible and brightly lit in the Prancing Pegasus, and also the most isolated. Sitting opposite each other, the two Eisners had a complete view of the space around them. They could not be approached or overheard without their knowing of it.

“Yes.” Byleth answered easily, charging her mug to him, and taking that first grateful swig. He scowled at her, and took a swig of his own before setting both arms on the table and leaning forward over his forearms.

“So?”

Byleth mirrored his pose, one finger lifting to trace the rim of her mug “You recall the girl that I dream of?”

“Sure. Green hair, purple robe, ribbons, stone throne, always sleeping.”

“Just before I took the job with Gautier, she woke up. She spoke, _we_ spoke –a conversation. She still sleeps a lot, but she’s often awake now –not only in dreams, but even when _I’m_ awake… I think she’s the Goddess.”

Jeralt stilled “ _The_ Goddess?”

Byleth nodded.

“The Seiros Goddess?”

Byleth nodded.

“You’re sure?”

Byleth nodded.

“The-” Jeralt sighed and took a hearty swallow, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table “So, whatever it was Rhea did to you, to your heart, you think she set you up as… some sort of oracle? Or…” His expression darkened like she’d rarely ever seen out of battle and his eyes scanned restlessly over the grain of the wood. “The Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth Ceremony.”

“I think I’ve heard of that, what is it?”

“Biggest day in the Church’s calendar. Supposedly it’s the day the Goddess will return to walk Fódlan once more but… well it hasn’t happened yet. The whole doctrine is built around the idea that the Goddess is watching over us and one day she’ll come back. I always figured that was just to give people something to hope for but…”

“…but I can actually speak to her.”

Jeralt surged up out of his seat and Byleth watched, bemused, as he stalked over to the bar and returned shortly with two square-cut glasses and a bottle of something a deeper amber than her preferred mead. He poured them a finger each, downed his immediately and poured another. 

“She says you’re taking this better than expected.”

Jeralt downed the second and when he poured the next, made it a triple measure.

~o~*~o~

Sometime in the early hours, when they were two-thirds through the bottle and just before the proprietor kicked them out, Jeralt ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily

“Well, at least I understand why I never got a straight answer. ‘I put an amnesiac Goddess in your Daughter’s head’ isn’t something you just blurt out.”

~o~*~o~

Ethereal Moon

Given that she was connected to the Goddess, Jeralt and Byleth concluded that Rhea did not mean any _harm_ to her, in the direct sense. However, they decided it would be better to know more about the Rite of Rebirth before approaching the Archbishop to reckon with her; forewarned being forearmed. The only place either could think of to find any information on the topic would be the library; so Byleth put the troop back on the Academy list to keep them close to the monastery and was immediately assigned to the Black Eagles. (Hubert had finally taken the matter into his own hands, on Lady Edelgard’s behalf) 

The Ethereal Moon was always a time of celebration at Garreg Mach, and this year following Tomas’s betrayal and the calamity at Remire, the Church leaned heavily on that tradition to lighten the mood amongst the populace. The student Houses all had the same, light, mission; guard the ruins of an old chapel that was in disrepair and a danger to those who would use it as a meeting place –there had been some evidence of recent entry.

Byleth drew the second-shortest straw for guard duty; the day after the ball that was being held to mark the Monastery’s founding –the shortest straw being the night _of_ the ball, as the entire town was hosting celebrations and all of Garreg Mach would otherwise be joining in. The troop weren’t best pleased that they’d have to moderate themselves at the festivities, but bore with it.

At least until Dimitri visited the barracks to invite her to the ball. Then they made a fuss.

“The ball is for students.” She had answered his request with confusion instead of immediately acquiescing; much to Sothis’s annoyance.

“Well, as a student I am inviting you as my guest.” Dimitri countered “Since I can’t show you the splendour of Fhirdiad this year, and also… I owe you an apology, if you’ll accept it; for my behaviour at Remire.”

“You owe me nothing for that. I felt the same way you did.”

“It relieves me to hear you say so, and yet, faced with that situation, you retained your composure. I did not act as a leader should. Please –a ball may seem a trifling matter, but it is all I have at to offer at present. Even if you don’t care for the music and dancing I am assured the food will be exquisite.” 

“I… will put in an appearance.” Byleth decided, and Sothis cheered “But if there is any protest-”

“I shall take responsibility” Dimitri cut in, bowing to her “Thank you –until then.” He added, leaving before she could change her mind.

Byleth turned back to her drills and was faced with the troop’s interest, including Willard’s trepidation, Raoul’s scorn and Sanderson’s enthusiasm. He might actually have shed a tear.

~o~*~o~

It seemed as though Garreg Mach was always hosting competitions after traumatic events; there was a dance competition preceding the ball. Byleth made the mistake of pausing briefly to observe the practice as she cut through the Academy on the way to the training grounds one afternoon and suddenly nothing would do for Sothis but to sit for a moment and watch the Professors instruct their chosen representatives.

She found an unoccupied bench near the end of the row opposite the Black Eagle’s classroom and watched as Seteth tried to find anything to correct in Dorothea’s posture. Byleth was halfway convinced he was learning more from her than the reverse. Numerous students had gathered around, watching and practising their own steps. She couldn’t see the Blue Lions or Golden Deer through the crowd –but she could hear Claude teasingly heckle Hilda over the gentle chatter and Manuela’s sharp instruction for him to hush and Hilda to pull her shoulders back. 

There was a sudden presence at her side and without any warning whatsoever one of the children from Remire had boldly clambered into her lap, settling herself comfortably and pulling Byleth’s arms about her without hesitation. Byleth was so taken aback she made no protest as the girl’s brother stood on the bench beside her and from there began to climb up to her shoulders, tugging her hair painfully a time or two as he did so.

“She’s very pretty.” The girl said of Dorothea and Byleth hummed an agreement, wincing slightly as the boy’s foot scuffed along her arm. 

“Bernadetta,” said a voice full of laughter, and Byleth tilted her head just enough to see Edelgard nearby without risking dislodging the boy “allow me to introduce you. The woman presently being used as a climbing frame is the Ashen Demon you’ve been hiding from.”

“Sh-She is?” The student with Edelgard, Bernadetta, asked “O-oh… Maybe not as scary as I thought.”

“ _Actually_ , the Ashen Demon isn’t scary at all!” announced the girl in her lap, before Byleth could make any reply.

“No?” Asked Edelgard, approaching and kneeling down to be of height with the child.

“Nu-uh. She protects people! If you put a coin in the hearth at night, then the Ashen Demon will watch over you until dawn. -And you have to say ‘thank you’ when you clear out the ashes in the morning, it’s very important.” she added with all the sagacity of a four-year-old, and Byleth swore to herself that she was going to have _words_ with Sanderson.

 _“The Legendary Ashen Demon; comfort to small children everywhere!”_ Sothis laughed _“Let us hope this tale does not escape the Monastery! No bandit will have fear of you.”_

“How charming.” Edelgard managed, keeping her amusement to a smile “Perhaps I may try it myself.”

The girl nodded wisely as the boy gave an exclamation of triumph at finally getting himself on Byleth’s shoulders, crossing his arms on the crown of her head and leaning heavily against it. “ **I’m** going to be the Ashen Demon when I grow up. The Prince said he’ll teach me swordplay; I’ll learn until I’m the best anywhere! Then we won’t ever have to leave home again, I’ll protect us.”

“I _was_ on my way to the training grounds myself” Byleth finally managed to get a word in “Perhaps if you ask Dimitri now I could help start your lessons.”

“ _Really!?_ ” The boy cried, already scrambling down despite having just settled, and Byleth was grateful for her armour else her ribs would be thoroughly abused. He disappeared off between the students and his sister crossed her arms with a huff and a mighty scowl

“ _Dancing_ is much better than _swords_.”

“P-perhaps you can watch with me, then?” Benadetta offered, taking the spare space on the bench. The girl nodded her approval and was much daintier than her brother as she untangled herself from Byleth, slipping to the ground before climbing back up to Bernadetta’s lap, instead of simply crawling across their thighs.

Byleth stood before she could become an unwitting target again and offered Edelgard the seat. The Princess raised an eyebrow, understanding exactly what her motivations were, but took the seat regardless as Bernadetta and the child spoke softly about the dance.

“It would be a small fortune to place a coin in _every_ hearth at the palace in Enbarr, if I wanted to summon the Ashen Demon. It would take quite some time to go round them all each night and each morning as well. Do you think a bullion in one of them would do the trick?” Edelgard asked, looking straight ahead at the ongoing practice. 

“I’m not sure I should comment on the practice of summoning demons in a monastery. Even the not-scary ones.” Byleth answered, glancing down at her then back ahead. “It’s a goodly amount for a night’s work, but you may have to learn another ritual first. I’ve never heard of the Ashen Demon working too long apart from the Blade Breaker.”

“No, nor have I.” the Princess agreed easily. “Still, there’s a first time for everything, they say.” Byleth tipped her head in acknowledgement and they drifted into a comfortable silence.

Dimitri arrived shortly with an earnest smile and a whole passel of young boys to be herded to the training grounds.

Somehow, Byleth was the welcoming one of the group. Bernadetta ducked her head behind the girl, who was occupied with pulling faces at her brother, Edelgard nodded briefly but remained silent and somewhat tense. It was left to Byleth to greet them and usher them onwards.

An awareness tingled across the base of her neck as she walked with Dimitri behind the boys who raced ahead, but looking around she could not place it until she glanced up.

From a terrace above, the Archbishop was watching.

~o~*~o~

She met Jeralt at the pond a few days later in the early evening. It was too soon for either of them to have any update, this was simply _their_ time. He had a rod already baited for her and she settled into place beside him, quietly casting and recasting her line as the moment drew peacefully around them.

“I’m off on a mission soon. Short one, shouldn’t take much more than a week, ten days maybe.” He informed her, as he expertly pulled a trout, thick with winter fat, from the water. “But a little birdie tells me you’ll be busy yourself; managed to wrangle an invitation to the ball, have you?”

“Well, if I’m not going to inherit a castle, perhaps I can marry into one.” She deadpanned the response, but her eyes gave her away and Jeralt laughed.

“I should push you in for that kind of nonsense. I would if I didn’t think you’d take me with you.” She shook her head and Jeralt’s smile turned soft and distant “You’ve really come out of your shell of late. It’s good to see you all lit up. You –you remind me more and more of your mother.”

“I do?”

“She was often reserved too, but when she smiled… well, it was like nothing could possibly be wrong with the world. You have that same way about you, when you’re happy.”

Byleth couldn’t help but smile at that. Her attention was only pulled away by a tug on her own line and she set about carefully reeling her catch in “I’ve noticed it myself… the shell part. I think because I’ve had to deal with so many people? The troop, the Guildmaster, the students… the other one.” Sothis rolled her eyes, but didn’t interrupt the moment to protest that irreverent reference “Suddenly I’m involved in a lot of conversations.”

“Then maybe it’s a good thing we ran across Alois. All the choices I made were to protect you, and I wouldn’t change a one of them.” He reached over and chucked her chin, as she unhooked her catch “But I wouldn’t miss this either.”

She smiled up at him, and he beamed back down at her. It was a moment too precious to last very long, and Jeralt huffed, looking back out across the water as the setting winter sun bathed everything in gold and orange. 

“Enjoy the ball, Kid. And don’t let Sanderson or anyone else tell you it _has_ to be the most romantic night of your life. Take your time, even if you need me to start beating your suitors back with a stick.”

“I’ll tell them you’ll be living with us in the castle. That’ll put anyone off.”

He pushed her in. She took him with her. They splashed to the side, gasping against the shock of cold, and hauled themselves back onto the stones. They shivered their way together up to the infirmary, gratefully accepting warm towels and mulled wine, laughing silently at each other through Manuela’s lecture.

~o~*~o~

“Last moon was geography and this moon is… rituals of the Church? You have strange tastes, Milady Mercenary.” Claude commented, craning his head to read the title of the dense volume she was presently working through as he took a seat at the table opposite her, even though every other table in the library was unoccupied.

“No less than you.” she replied, scanning the spines of the stack of books he set down on his side. He winked at her

“It’s all a front to maintain my air of mystery.”

“That’s a lot of effort for a front.” She mused aloud, but didn’t press the matter “By the way, have you seen –there was a first volume to this one? I had it the other day but I can’t find it anymore.”

Claude hummed, tapping the cover of his first book as he began setting out his notes –taking up far more space than a polite half of the table; “Was it, by any chance, actually useful? Containing specific knowledge about the Church? Did you leave it somewhere visible?” She nodded to each of his questions and he frowned “Then probably it’s been _curated._ ”

“What do you mean?”

Claude began to speak then cut himself off, his frown intensifying “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. It was Tomas –Solon- who told me and given the whole actually-an-evil-mage-who-helped-kidnap-Flayn thing I should probably question his motives.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Claude sighed and leant back, lacing his hands behind his head and tipping the chair back on two legs “Solon, or whoever he is, told me that the Church, and particularly Seteth, keep a pretty tight rein on what’s available here. Nothing the Church disapproves of –or in other words, nothing that might contradict them or expose their secrets. Only, now that I know what kind of twisted magic he’s capable of, I’m wondering if there isn’t a good reason for the Church to keep some things secret. With the issues recently with the Western Church, and some dark mage on the loose, if the people lost faith there’d be chaos. And, with an organisation this big it’s hard to believe there isn’t _some_ dark secret tucked away somewhere. Several, most likely. _Leaving_ them secret may just be the lesser evil.” Claude let the chair drop back forward onto all four legs “But, I’m not the sort of person who can leave things like that alone. I’d say your book probably had a reference to something they don’t want anyone to look too closely into, so it’s been removed. Which begs the question; what was it? What deep and dark secret of the Church did you stumble over?”

Byleth frowned “There was a mention of new Cardinals only being ordained during the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth ceremony that I thought was out of place. If someone was ready for that, wouldn’t you just ordain them as soon as you could hold a service? Why wait until the Rite of Rebirth?”

“And why are their identities such a secret?” Claude continued “Not that that’s much of a secret at present, I’ve figured out at least two of them.”

“You have?”

“Sure, ever since Seteth became a Professor there are a couple of people who’ve taken over his old duties. It’s fairly obvious when you keep seeing the same faces in all the places he used to be.” He tilted his head “What got you started on this topic, anyway?”

“I need to maintain my air of mystery.”

Claude laughed “Milady, you need no help with that.”

~o~*~o~

She had meant to interrupt. To join in on this conversation. Twist it round and expose that careful image of _himself_ Claude curated to hide whatever it was he was keeping secret about his origins and advent as Riegan’s heir.

But then he had questioned Solon’s motives and so had she. Why hadn’t she been informed about Remire beforehand? What else was Solon keeping from her? What else was Thales keeping from her?

Flayn was lovely. Seteth was a good man. Dimitri was from _before_. Children of the Empire had been forced from their homes. Claude saw problems with her allies as much as with the Church and she could see his point.

Edelgard felt sick.

She could not let it affect her. She _would not_.

Pushing her nausea aside she retreated from the library unseen.

Now that he’d mentioned it, she could think of a few likely Cardinal candidates herself. Perhaps she might be able to unveil that mysterious upper echelon of the Church…


	14. The Sound of Your Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has a paralogue [A Moment of Whimsy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412909), featuring Edelgard

Ethereal Moon

"I am _so_ sorry" Leonie said when Byleth opened the barrack door. She had only a moment to process the girl's remorseful expression before she was overwhelmed on all sides. Hilda gripped one arm, Dorothea the other, Annette and Mercedes had taken up similar positions on Leonie. Willard started forward with a "Little Boss-!" but was quelled by a fierce glance from _Mercedes_ and could only look on in horror as they were marched up to Byleth's room

" _Leonie._ " Byleth demanded as she was forced to sit at the edge of her bed. Leonie, beside her, buried her face in her hands

"I'm sorry! I lost a bet! Apparently Claude is more of a disaster in the kitchen than Annette is." Annette sent her a cheerful salute as she set out numerous makeup palettes across her desk. Dorothea was adjusting a portable mirror, Mercedes produced a basket of snacks and Hilda was sizing them up, more actively on-task than Byleth had ever seen her. It was downright threatening the way she watched them.

Sothis was laughing uproariously at her for thinking that.

"And _I_ am involved because…?"

"Because all women need their battle-paint for a ball." Hilda answered. "You know, you're very well coordinated already, you wear black very well. I think you must have a winter colouring. What do you think, Dorothea?"

The diva hummed and Byleth shot Leonie a glance begging explanation but the would-be mercenary looked as confused as she felt "It's difficult to tell, she _could_ be a summer. Charcoal and navy might be better than true black, but you're right, Hilda, she _does_ pull it off. Even that pink is just cold enough to fit in. Shame about the gold, but we can work with what we have. Bronze and Gold palettes for Leonie, Annette, Byleth needs the cool ones."

"Sure thing!" the girl chirped "Why don't you take Byleth first while Mercie and I work on Leonie's nails –they might take a while."

"Hey! What's wrong with my nails?"

Hilda pulled Byleth inexorably over to the desk and resettled her in front of the mirror where Dorothea was setting out an alarming array of brushes and other tools Byleth couldn't even begin to guess at.

"Who cuts your hair? It's all uneven at the back here." Hilda pouted

"Nobody cuts my hair. It just –gets cut."

"Yes, I believe that" Hilda sighed "You're worse than Holst. Well let's see what I can do-"

Byleth did not need to look in the mirror to catch hold of Hilda's wrist "It did not end well for the last person to bring a blade so close to my face." Hilda's pout intensified, but she dropped the scissors.

"Fine, fine, I believe _that_ as well. Let's see what magic I can work with just a brush then."

"Close your eyes, dear." Dorothea asked. Byleth held her gaze for a long moment before sighing heavily and submitting.

It was a strange feeling, to have Hilda's fingers playing over her scalp, Dorothea's gentle, _gentle_ , touches to her face, soft puffs of breath flitting across chasing them. Annette and Mercedes provided background chatter. Sothis eased into a doze, saving up her energy for the ball ahead and Byleth felt a happy feeling of contentment wash over her.

It was strange, but it was nice, to have people so close, to share this gentle contact.

By and by, Dorothea turned her face one way, then the other, and satisfied with her work, invited Byleth to open her eyes. The woman in the mirror was still very obviously _her_ , there was no disconnect or disbelief, but she was also somehow _more_. Eyes brighter, lips fuller, skin more even, hair more lustrous. Hilda had brushed it to a shine and pulled it forwards to settle across her collarbones instead of hanging where it may.

She felt pretty.

" _That_ _'s_ the look" Hilda said, meeting her eyes in the mirror "That feeling just now, that expression, that's what we were going for. _Oh_ , you are _so cute!_ And now you have your battle-paint, you're ready." A grin split her face "Le-o-nie! Your turn." She sing-songed, offering Byleth a hand out of her chair as they exchanged places.

"Do I _have_ to?" Leonie groaned

"A bet's a bet! It's not my fault you forgot to account for the mushroom incident. Come on, you've put this off long enough. If _Captain Jeralt_ _'s_ daughter survived it, you can too, right?"

Leonie groaned again and Byleth took a seat on the bed between Annette and Mercedes, letting them take a hand each to clean, file and buff her nails.

Leonie was much more prone to flinching than Byleth had been and had earned another admonishment from Dorothea when a knock sounded on the door

"Ashen One? Safe to come in?"

"Come in, Sanderson." Byleth replied and he had barely poked his head through the door before Leonie was calling out;

"Sanders! Save me!"

Sanderson took in all the paraphernalia around the room, the four hard glares directed at him and came to one conclusion "Sorry, Miss Leonie. Not for all the gold in Leicester." Hilda, Dorothea, Annette and Mercedes all have him a sharp nod and a grin eased over his face. "Just to let you know everyone is away now, Ashen One. And don't worry; I'll have them back in good order ready for tomorrow."

"Enjoy yourself, Sanderson"

"Oh I shall" he replied and then directed a nod and a wink to the room at large "Ladies, break their hearts."

~o~*~o~

By the time Leonie passed muster, everyone else was ready and the snacks had been demolished. Byleth turned out to be a dab hand at buffing nails and if she couldn't _quite_ join in on the gossip she was at least able to help Mercedes maintain a sea of calm in their corner of the room.

Hilda linked arms with her and leaned in to explain how the ball would operate as they made their way up to the monastery; only one dance per partner. That sounded like a nightmare to Byleth, who hoped she knew enough people to avoid being overwhelmed by introductions again. She allowed Sothis's enthusiasm to buoy her up and tried to face the prospect with optimism.

As they arrived, she let the students pull ahead and stood in the entry way to take in the changes to the room and all the people therein. The musicians had taken up residence on the gallery above, and Byleth could just make out the shadows of more at rest –ready to switch in through the night to keep the music going. Sothis approved, heartily.

"Here you are." Dimitri beamed, coming up to her and bowing over her hand "You look lovely this evening."

"Thank you" Byleth replied, smiling and Dimitri opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off when a long note sounded from the musicians above.

"Will you lead off with me?" He asked instead, extending a hand to her. Byleth placed her hand in his and let him draw her onto the dancefloor

" _Wait, Child, Byleth, you have never danced before! I applaud your determination, but do you really want to_ _lead off a ball?_ _"_ Sothis asked

" _If I hesitate, I might wait forever. I've seen the students practising steps all this moon; how hard could it be?_ " Byleth replied. It was the same thought that had led her to giving that first seminar as soon as she could. Once she had decided to do something, she went at it with all the inevitability of a boulder rolling downhill.

The strategy served her well. Dimitri was a strong lead and Byleth was confident in her ability to move her body as she willed it. They made a striking couple, joined shortly by Edelgard and her partner, and then the rest of the students who were prepared to dance the first.

People were watching. There were eyes upon her. Byleth was aware of them, but they did not matter. She felt pretty. Dimitri was sure in his step. Dancing was fun. Sothis was happy.

Byleth was happy.

~o~*~o~

The first dance ended and Dimitri could only shoot her a helpless, smiling, glance as she was swept away into a succession of partners; Sylvain, Ashe, Lindhart, Caspar –who ensured she inhaled a plate of food to keep her energy up before whirling her round the floor-, three students she'd not met before, Lorenz –clearly goaded into gracing a commoner with his hand by Hilda and Leonie, and then Ferdinand.

She was beginning to flag by the time their dance finished, and realising it, the young nobleman made it his duty to ignore the tap on his shoulder and lead her off to the side, promising to return in a moment with refreshment.

Edelgard came alongside her; also resting for a set. "I see Dorothea caught you. You're exceptionally pretty tonight; I do hope she wasn't too overbearing?"

"Thank you –No, she left the intimidation to Hilda."

Edelgard smiled "They did the same with Ingrid this morning. A more effective ambush I've never seen. Mercedes can be surprisingly deceptive."

"After today I'm prepared to believe it. I'll have to find a way to thank them; despite the ambush I enjoyed it." The Princess nodded and they watched the dancers companionably for a moment before a motion caught her eye

"Ah, here comes Ferdinand. Just so you know; he is good company so long as you can get him talking about anything _other_ than his _noble duty_ or _lineage_. Pity it's all he focuses on with me."

"Oh, is that the secret? I'll bear it in mind -What _is_ a noble lineage anyway? It seems to me that half of you are adopted."

Edelgard's eyes widened and after a second she let out a surprised chuckle, a becoming blush across her face

"Indeed! That is why… I would wish to be valued not for my name or my Crest, but for my capability. _That_ is the sort of Empire I wish to lead. It must seem so simple to a mercenary; you are hired or not for your skill alone, frankly I'm jealous."

"Byleth," Ferdinand said, handing her a cold flute of champagne "Edelgard" he continued, drawing himself up and pronouncing her name in what Byleth felt was a very specific tone "wi-"

"Lady Edelgard, may I have the pleasure?" Hubert asked, appearing out of nowhere on Edelgard's other side, hand extended. Whether the greater 'pleasure' was the dance or denying Ferdinand the opportunity was less than clear.

"Certainly" Edelgard answered and with a smile to Byleth and a nod at Ferdinand allowed Hubert to lead her off.

Ferdinand directed a shrug at her and Byleth smiled around her first sip of champagne, before engaging him on the topic of her new appreciation for the opera. Ferdinand brightened, and immediately began regaling her with a list of productions she must see and arias she must coax out of Professor Manuela, if she possibly could. His enthusiasm drew others into the conversation and suddenly Byleth found her limit; she could bear in a crowd when her conversations were happening one-on-one, or with a small group, but this discussion, the group forming sub-groups and talking over each other, with the music playing under all, was just too much.

She finished the champagne, let Ferdinand know she was stepping aside for a moment, and escaped into the night.

Emerald eyes watched her go.

~o~*~o~

Sothis sent her a wave of concern as she passed out of the side door towards the Academy and training grounds. She sent back as much assurance as she could, that she just needed a moment away from the _noise_ , and would be fine to return shortly.

She made her way languidly along the path towards the training grounds. Trailing a hand on the stone wall that separated the walkway from the sheer cliff, consciously feeling the texture of the sandstone, until she came level with the last bench before the high walls of the training grounds would obstruct her view. She turned to rest her forearms on the wall, looking out at the cathedral and the strange building beyond.

She had felt better almost as soon as she stepped outside, but now she could close her eyes and take a breath, the tension she hadn't realised had crept into her posture started melting away. A minute later and she would call herself 'recovered' -yet not quite ready to dive back in to it all. Now that she had stopped, it was difficult to begin again; the boulder had lost momentum.

A step sounded nearby; deliberate –letting her know they were approaching.

"Evening, Milady Mercenary."

"Good evening, Claude." She greeted him, as he eased into place beside her, resting his arms on the wall next to hers.

"Had to escape? Can't say I blame you; parties like this aren't for me either."

"I don't believe that."

"Ha! Think you see through me, do you? No, seriously, music and fun are all well and good, but those dances the nobles do are… something else."

"Too formal for you?" He smiled at the question

"Something like that. I wasn't brought up to it, you could say."

"Did you not expect to inherit?" She asked, tentative, in case it was a sensitive topic.

"Nope." He answered, lightly enough "I _had_ Riegan cousins, I'm told, but they died before my Uncle did, the chances that I'd ever end up here are… fantastically small, actually. Huh." He mused, and his brow furrowed for a moment as he considered that, but his expression cleared again as he glanced back to her "I always expected I'd have to scrape by on the strength of my wits, that whatever recognition I got would be hard won. That I'd have to be self-reliant. It's not the worst way to grow up, but it does mean I don't really fit in with that lot in there. Things they take as given, I see differently. I'm an Outsider."

Byleth looked over to the hall where light and music were spilling out "I think I 'fit in' there less than you do. I guess that makes me an Outsider too?"

"I guess it does." he agreed, smiling down at her "Anyone could be, in the wrong company. But, even knowing that doesn't make it any easier to live with." Byleth hummed an acknowledgement and rested her chin in one hand, still propped against the wall as she looked back out across the distance. Following her gaze, he asked: "Have you heard the legend about the tower? They say if a man and a woman pray for the same thing there, on this night, the Goddess will grant their wish without fail."

"Why tonight?"

"Who knows? Maybe it has something to do with celebrating the anniversary of the monastery's completion. Maybe the Goddess comes down on this night and this night alone to celebrate with us. Even Goddesses like to party, right?"

Byleth spluttered a laugh and Claude looked at her astonished as she giggled helplessly, turning her face into her hand to stifle it, cheeks flushed.

" _I_ think She would." Byleth managed, smile splitting her features, eyes sparkling brightly with laughter "You know I've been reading about the Church recently; there are whole books just about the Harpstring Moon and music performed for the Saints and especially the Goddess. If that legend were true, then it wouldn't have anything to do with the monastery or the tower, it'd be because of the ball. The first people the Goddess would offer blessings to would be the musicians and the couples who stayed on the floor; not anyone who snuck out."

" _I know you are making fun, but I cannot say you are wrong."_ Sothis shot at her _"I certainly would not grant any wish of_ _yours_ _, no matter how nicely you prayed._ _"_ She added, with a teasing lilt of her own.

"Ruined our chances already, have we?" Claude asked, and his smile mirrored hers; mirthful and _true_. "Well, it's only a rumour started by the students, not like it had any basis in fact. What would you have wished for, though? If it was real? For a mercenary you don't strike me as being particularly… well, _mercenary_ , but there must be _some_ things you want?"

"I wonder about that." Byleth mused, tilting her head up to look at the stars. Her mind wandered briefly over the gold she'd earned from Gautier, still sitting untouched, then turned to and lingered over her troop, the students she'd started to get to know recently -Leonie and the House Leaders particularly, of lunches spent with Manuela, afternoons listening to the choir with Sothis, and most of all her Father; bearing with her preference in pubs, standing beside her at the dock, laughing at her in the infirmary "Not _things_ , but… I have _hopes_."

Claude was silent and she glanced over to him. He looked away quickly and cleared his throat "I suppose it's the same for everyone. We can never be fully satisfied; all have something to strive for –otherwise what's the point of it all? Even I've found myself holding tightly to some pretty big ambitions…" A new song started up, music swelling up to spill out from the hall, and he stepped away from the wall, extending a hand to her "What say you to starting our own legend? A dance under the stars where the Goddess can see us, as we wish for our hopes and ambitions to come to fruition?"

She raised a brow at him even as she placed her hand in his "Even though it's a formal dance?"

"So long as it isn't a minuet or a gavotte or any other stuffy dance with two or more syllables in the name, I think I'll manage. In fact, you'll find I'm a treasure on the dancefloor." Sure enough, he pulled her confidently into the traditional three-beat step of a waltz, though he guided her into far more twirls than any dancing instructor would have approved of, delighting in her breathless giggles as the spins left her dizzy and leaning on his support.

The music ended on a long chord and he bowed low over her hand, then pulled her back into form again as the next song started up almost immediately "One more to be sure? Wouldn't want the Goddess to think we weren't willing to put the effort in, even if just for a dance."

"I thought we were only allowed one dance per partner?"

"Sadly, yes. Only one dance at the ball. But, we're not technically _at_ the ball just now." He winked, already leading her into the steps of a much slower tempo and Byleth felt herself smiling and blushing

Sothis was laughing _"Accept your fate, Child! There is music, a partner before you, and so you must dance! Well done, Little Schemer, well played!"_

~o~*~o~

She danced a third time with Claude, the last one being the _official_ one _at_ the ball, before he handed her over to Ignatz and thence to Raphael, who took her through the turns of a reel with so much force and momentum that her feet cleared the ground a number of times.

Sothis's joy was complete.

She conceded that, _yes_ , Byleth had work tomorrow, so _yes_ , it would be acceptable to start making her way to bed, but she was still expected to accept any offers as she made her way out. And if she happened to end up dancing until she simply fell upon the ground, Sothis would only approve.

Fortunately for Byleth she found Dimitri fairly quickly and thanked him for the invitation. He insisted on escorting her at least to the gate, his presence keeping anyone else from approaching her.

Several of her men had already returned and she bid them goodnight, trusting in the rest to turn up before too long as she made her way to bed; removing her makeup and settling in to slumber.

She dreamt; but not of the battlefield.

Instead, a ballroom -and Sothis singing a lullaby.

~o~*~o~

When Claude returned to his room he didn't even make it as far as his bed. He slid down the back of the door and buried his face against his knees stifling a groan that was almost a scream in the heavy fabric of his uniform.

Byleth had laughed.

She had laughed and suddenly his head was full of her. Commanding and assuring when they'd met in Remire. Intriguing when he'd shown her about the monastery. Brilliant in the training battle with the Knights. Cute in the firelight on that one mission they'd taken together. So fragile and breakable, _human_ despite her reputation, in her father's arms as he rushed her to the infirmary. _Adorable_ wrapped in a blanket as they spoke in the library and she dropped the title for the first time. Grace itself, when she showed him what swordplay really was in her spar against Jeralt. Intelligent and compelling when she gave that first seminar on tactics. Approachable, _friendly_ , when she had made Dimitri laugh after the Battle of Eagle and Lion, and joined in with the rest of them. Charming when she had answered his banter at Manuela's seminar. A peaceful, calming presence when they happened to share a table in the library. Captivating as she blessed the dancefloor with her presence. Radiant under the starlight, as whatever _hopes_ she had thought of lent her… _that_ _smile_.

And fool that he was, he'd asked her to dance. Held her in his arms and sealed his fate, unable to bring himself to dance with anyone else thereafter.

Claude swallowed back another groan. His head thumped back against the door three times.

This. Was not. The plan.


	15. The Taste of Your Grief

Ethereal Moon

They had assembled in the Black Eagle classroom, Seteth and Edelgard were going over their assigned routes and schedules, confirming the chain of command one last time as they prepared for their shift at the chapel when Alois and Jeralt, freshly returned from his mission, burst into the room.

"Demonic Beasts in the chapel grounds. We need to head out immediately."

"What!? How is that possible?" Seteth exclaimed, as everyone surged to their feet

"That's what I'd like to know!" Jeralt called back, leading the way. He nodded at Byleth when he caught her eye but was unable to spare any other attention to her.

She had never explored out this way. It was amazing how much space the monastery grounds encompassed; how many buildings had been given over to time whatever their initial purpose may have been. Entire towns could fit within the walls and the present residents might never even notice their new neighbours.

She had never fought Demonic Beasts before either. Red Wolves, and the massive birds that made their homes in mountainous regions, yes. She had plenty of experience with those –but these beasts looked tougher somehow.

They were also _Wrong_.

That same feeling that Sothis had felt from Tomas, and again in Remire. The same strong pulse of it that had overwhelmed them before. These creatures radiated it.

She wasn't exactly _used_ to the feeling, Byleth doubted if she would ever be able to completely ignore that cold unease; but she knew how to manage it, at least.

There were students on the field. Caught weaponless out in the open. They needed to be rescued as soon as possible. Under Ferdinand's command, Byleth lead the troop in an assault charge to create an opening on one of the beasts –drawing its attention away from everyone else.

This _did_ mean its attention was then fixed on _them._ Ferdinand had an excellent grasp of evasive manoeuvres, however, and the Ashen Demon's stone composure bolstered the troop even in the face of monsters. It died in screaming agony, but where it's body should have been fell instead the warped remains of a person -a student. The sense of _Wrong_ intensified, but she had no time to think about it as they were pulled into another fight.

Little by little the battle progressed. She caught glimpses of other skirmishes happening around them; a dark spell from Hubert snaring a Beast long enough for Edelgard to cleave at it's neck, Bernadetta and her battalion launching a volley of arrows, Seteth wheeling overhead calling out positions, the languid sweep of Lindhart's magic over an ally, the clarion call of Dorothea's voice. Her Father, swinging down off his steed to clap her shoulder and meet her eye with a smile as a cheer went up and he trod over to the chapel to investigate, she trailed behind a little, keeping half an eye on her company and the Black Eagles as Professor Seteth called them in to debrief and account for any injuries, quickly before the gathering clouds burst.

"Run along now."

"Thanks for all your help, sir."

A gasp. _AlarmWrong._

"You're just a pathetic old man. How dare you get in the way of my brilliant plan, you dog?"

Jeralt fell.

Byleth had moved time before he hit the ground.

"Run along now."

"Thanks for all your-"

" **KNIFE!** " Byleth screamed. Jeralt whirled and caught the girl's wrist. She opened her hand and dropped the blade into her other, waiting palm, stabbing deep into his gut before he could react.

Jeralt fell.

_No._

"Run along now."

"Thanks for all your help, sir." Byleth drew her dagger and threw it, straight as an arrow at the girl's core. It was intercepted by a barrier as a mage, similar in appearance to Solon, appeared with that sharp sense of _Wrong,_ and then pulled the girl away through a spell.

Jeralt fell.

_No._

"Run along now." Byleth's eyes scanned furiously for the mage as she drew her sword and started running

"Thanks-"

" **KNIFE!** " Jeralt whirled and caught the girl's wrist. Byleth's pounding footfalls distracted her and she glanced over her shoulder. The mage appeared between them. Byleth's sword crashed against the barrier and slid off. The girl opened her hand and dropped the blade into her other, waiting palm.

Jeralt fell.

" _Child-"_

_No._

"Run along now." Byleth started running, drawing her dagger

"Thanks for all your help, sir" The dagger flew from her hand

" **KNIFE!** " Jeralt whirled and caught the girl's wrist. The mage deflected the dagger.

Jeralt fell.

" _Child –this power is not inexhaustible."_

_No._

"Run along now." Byleth put everything she had into speed, drawing her sword

"Thanks for all your help, sir" The mage appeared to intercept Byleth's sword.

Jeralt fell.

" _Child –Byleth –you cannot-"_

_No._

"Run along now." She could run faster. She _would_ run faster. She drew her dagger

"Thanks for all your help, sir" The mage intercepted.

Jeralt fell.

" _Byleth…"_

_No._

Where was the mage coming from? He had to be nearby, watching. Where-

Jeralt fell.

_No._

Jeralt fell.

_No._

Jeralt fell.

" _Byleth, this-"_

_**No!** _

" _-is the last. There is – no –no more. I cannot-"_ Sothis collapsed.

Byleth threw the dagger. The mage appeared to intercept, but her throw was desperate, sloppy, wide of her mark, released too high, nowhere near on target for the girl's core. Instead it scored a shallow line across the mage's cheek and sailed past as he pulled the girl away.

Jeralt fell.

_No. Nonononononono-_

She caught him up in her arms and turned him over to face her. Her hand pressed against the wound, calling on everything she had learned about white magic. It wouldn't knit, wouldn't pull together; the edges were _too_ clean. Was that blade the same as the Scythe that hurt her? Where was Manuela!? How soon could-

"Sorry… It looks like –I'm going to have to leave you now."

No…

She met his eyes. Despite everything he was calm, even smiling through the pain. One hand lifted to brush against her cheek.

"To think that the first time I saw you cry –your tears would be for me."

Cry?

His thumb shifted and she was suddenly aware of the tears coursing across her face, along his hand. Aware of the crushing grip inside her lungs pulling her down into it. "Dad-" she choked. His smile lifted a little.

"It's sad, and yet… I'm happy for it."

His eyes closed.

"Love you, Kid."

His hand fell away from her cheek.

The clouds burst.

~o~*~o~

Everyone was fixated on the, admittedly tragic, scene playing before them. Hubert even felt some sympathy for the Ashen Demon, now that he saw what it took to break her mask. He wondered if this would shatter her, or temper her into something even more deadly.

But that was for later. He knew his duty. Everyone else was fixated on the scene. Hubert palmed the dagger, and under the cover of his sleeve scraped the scant trail of blood from it into an empty vial he had to hand, before the rain could wash it clean.

~o~*~o~

It was Alois who finally breached the space around them. He lifted Byleth into his arms and took a step back as his Knights came forward, using belts and spears to lash two greatshields together into a makeshift catafalque.

They eased Jeralt onto it. Byleth, who had been completely pliant until that moment, scrambled out of his grasp and stood at the head of it, standing ready as pallbearer. Alois gave a nod and the knights backed away, allowing the rest of Jeralt's Mercenaries to come forward and take places beside her. Willard was too tall to easily work with them, so he stood behind, holding Jeralt's spear and the reins of his horse.

Alois came in front of them again and raised his hand. They knelt, lifted the catafalque onto their shoulders and stood once more. Alois turned and marched them past the row of students towards the monastery. The students fell in behind them.

Through it all no-one spoke a word. The only sound was the pinging of rain on metal.

The shaft of the spear dug painfully into her shoulder but it was negligible against the gaping maw that had opened in her chest and was clawing its way up her throat and down to her stomach. The ragged edges of it were cold; chilling, numb –but inside it roiled feelings she couldn't even begin to comprehend, let alone express, waiting to burst forth. She focused on the ground in front of her. One step after another.

They approached the main gate of the monastery. Someone must have seen them and run ahead as Rhea and Manuela reached the top of the stairs by the water-wall just as they processed into the entrance hall. Alois halted them and made a lowering gesture with his hand. They set the catafalque on the floor.

Byleth wobbled. From how fast Raoul's hand shot out to clasp her shoulder from behind he must have been expecting it, watching for it. Manuela darted down the stairs and pulled Byleth against her side, opening the expanse of her coat to wrap around her as she did more to hold Byleth upright than her own legs were managing.

Rhea descended the steps and knelt at the side of Jeralt's litter, reaching out towards him. Her hand flinched from touching him, then settled on his temple. Her eyes met Byleth's.

In that look was sorrow. A deep grief and regret. Loss.

Byleth believed it.

Her knees gave out. Manuela showed her fortitude in supporting her sudden weight, then pulling her forward, up the stairs. Byleth moved as if underwater. The air was viscous, everything was a blur. She had a vague sense in her periphery of something yellow and blue –Claude and Dimitri? -but could not focus on anything beyond Manuela's warm side pressed against her. Leading her into the next step. The next step. Something was physically dragging her down as if she were under a weighted net. Her head bowed under the pressure of it, vision tunnelled to the ground in front of her; the next step. The next step.

Through it all no-one spoke a word. The only sound was of the rain. Or was that static in her ears? Were they speaking?

The next step. The next step.

The infirmary.

Manuela guided her to sit on a familiar bed, and produced a handkerchief to wipe at her face. Was she crying? She couldn't feel it. A cup was placed in her hand and she drank without question. Manuela eased her back and murmured something she couldn't make out.

What would happen now? What was she supposed to- How was she supposed to- What- Why-

Why?

She sobbed once.

Then blessed darkness.

~o~*~o~

When Byleth woke again, Sothis woke with her and understood immediately all that had happened. She had felt grief before, she _knew_. She had lived through it and come out the other side; but she did not remember it.

She stayed silent. Fond though she had been of Jeralt, amused by his gruff manner and how easily his praise and attention brought out Byleth's lighter side, she had not loved him as Byleth had. The girl had spent her whole life following the path he laid out before them. Even in these recent moons, when their paths had begun to diverge, she still remained in his orbit –notwithstanding the mystery of their connection and Byleth's unbeating heart, they had had ample opportunity to leave Garreg Mach. They hadn't, because Byleth had never contemplated a world without her father in it.

Now she would have to. And Sothis, a Goddess without her memories, did not know how best to help.

She settled for being there, as Byleth started to work through the suffocating grey weight that numbed her and pressed her down into the bed.

At length the mercenary opened her eyes.

~o~*~o~

Manuela did not bother to hide her concern as Byleth went through her ablutions with a rote mechanical manner, face utterly inexpressive, motions heavy and slow.

When she finished, she sat at the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. She ignored the tray set beside her until Manuela instructed her softly to eat, then set about clearing the bowl, eyes still fixed on the floor.

It broke Manuela's heart. It always did, when they lost someone. But she had learned to channel her emotions into her work or singing. She would see Byleth through this-

-a harried messenger burst through the door and pulled her aside. The news was not good. The first injured party was already coming down the hall towards them. She needed to triage-

But Byleth-

-was not dying.

Sometimes, having a heart was the most difficult part of being a doctor.

"Byleth, dear" she crouched in front of her at eye level, sparing enough time to wait until the girl's gaze to meet hers "there's been another attack. I'm sorry to ask you to move, but I'm going to need that bed."

Byleth blinked, then stood and made her way to the door.

She waited purposeless in the corridor as a number of monks and nuns -and Ignatz- were shuffled into the infirmary. She remained there a moment and then-

-her father's office.

She couldn't recall how she got there. One moment she had been on the threshold of the infirmary, the next she was trailing a hand along her father's desk. A draw was slightly ajar, she made to close it, but instead pulled it open.

A pouch containing a familiar ring and a simple leather-bound book; the cover embossed with the Knot of Eisner, the same that was stitched across her back and on all the company records and banners.

She sat at the desk and read.

If she could think, she would call it a logbook rather than a journal. Each entry was headed with the date and weather; likely the only reason they didn't also contain a bearing or course was because Jeralt had spent his time land-bound.

She couldn't think. She could only read. The writing started about two years before he met –or rather, noticed- her mother, as though carrying on from a previous book, and what followed was all of two and a half decades of _love_. First for her mother and then herself.

There was a shaky period around her birth, where he had referred to her as "the child" for a while, before he had taken that extra step and advanced to "my child", "Byleth" and the affectionate "Kid".

She had never _seen_ her father panic, but she could read it in his writing at the times when she had fallen ill; how do you treat a child who doesn't cry when she's sick? Whose face won't express the pain she feels, even as she's burning with fever? Jeralt's answer had been to find a doctor he trusted and follow all advice to the letter. That went a long way to explaining why they had stopped in Remire village so often. Why he cleared her for battle himself every time she returned to health.

He had marked every preference she ever showed. From sweeter foods to swords to how she would make her way to his side when he fished, until he taught her and started bringing her with him in the first place. How as a child she had quietly sought his company over all others.

His pen had lingered over every achievement she earned. Her first steps. Her first words. Her first letters. The first time she disarmed him in training. Her first catch. Her first job. The first time they had fought together as one unit. When she had mastered the Wrath Strike. When she had grown tall enough to ride a horse of her own. When she had lead half the company round in a pincer attack that saved his hide.

The entries since she had taken over leadership of the company, started "coming out of her shell", were full of pride, of happiness, of concern, of bemusement.

Of confidence, that she would see herself and the men through anything.

It was too much. It was not enough. It was everything and _he_ _was_ _gone_. All at once the numbness that had cosseted her broke.

She wept.

She wept and he was gone. She wept and she could not follow him this time. She wept and the ache did not lessen. She wept and _her father had loved her._ She wept _and she had not told him_ _-_

Had he known anyway? As he had always understood her regardless of all the things she didn't say? He had always read her; she'd never _needed_ to say such words. _Please_ let him have known!

She wept, loud, gasping and hiccupping, all tears and snot and spit until exhaustion claimed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	16. The Weight of Your Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I took last week off for the Claudeleth #TheGoldenGifts exchange, [and you should absolutely go and read the entire collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheGoldenGifts), then search Twitter for #TheGoldenGifts to see all the pretty art. Then come back here. 
> 
> Or read this first then go see the collection, I don’t mind :)

Ethereal Moon

Byleth was still weeping when Dimitri stalked by on his way to Hanneman's office to collect the Professor for what amounted to a war briefing. He hesitated by the door to the Captain's quarters but in the end he did not enter. He had not wanted words to soothe his anguish. Words would not appease the dead. Only once she had found purpose would Byleth be able to move forward again.

His hands fisted, his teeth grit. These monsters; Solon who had experimented on the people of Remire, Monica – _Kronya_ \- who had lured students and Captain Jeralt to their deaths and then attacked the Cathedral while they were mourning in order to kidnap a Cardinal, these people, these _creatures_ _,_ would pay for the suffering they had wrought and pay dearly.

He would see to it.

~o~*~o~

The meeting in the Audience Chamber was grim. Rhea had been still and solemn following the incursion to the Chapel. The second attack within the Monastery's grounds had pushed her into something approaching a fury, her voice sharper and harder than the House Leaders or Professors (save Seteth) had ever heard it as she paced before them.

"-Knights are hunting down these heathens who _dare_ befoul the Monastery with their presence again. The _audacity_ of this attack –we are certain it was the same girl; Monica?"

"All the witnesses report it was so. That her appearance changed and she named herself Kronya –akin to Tomas revealing himself as Solon." Seteth replied, arms crossed, a deep frown on his face.

"And the mage who assisted in the attack on the chapel, on Jeralt? Has he been identified?"

"It was not Solon" Edelgard answered "I spoke with a number of Jeralts's Mercenaries this morning, they were the only troop at both Remire and the Chapel. The descriptions do not match. I think it safe to assume there are at least three such parties; Solon, Kronya and the mage."

Rhea paced further, then stopped, heaving a sigh she turned to face them.

"We will not be caught off guard again. With the Knights in pursuit we will rely on the Officers Academy for defence. We will prepare against further infiltration as well. Students will be expected to bear arms at all times, even within the Cathedral."

"That's all well and good if our opponents announce themselves." Claude interjected "But arming everyone and setting them to look for intruders when our enemies can walk around looking like our friends is a sure way to… unfortunate incidents."

"And what would you suggest?" Seteth shot back, Claude shrugged and laced his hands behind his head, projecting an air of lackadaisical calm.

"Passwords, secret phrases, a healthy dose of paranoia. –Not _too_ much you understand, just enough to follow procedure."

"Tomas was absent from the monastery for a number of years, and Monica was missing for a year before her discovery, or should I say **re** insertion." Hanneman stated "Whatever the process is for taking on a foreign appearance, I do not believe it can be achieved quickly. Taking note of extended absences may be enough to prevent being taken in by another doppelgänger."

Rhea raised a hand "You are both quite right. We must be cautious, but it will not do to promote fear and distrust. I will not expect students to bear arms at all times, but I will ask you Professors and House Leaders to be particularly mindful of the comings and goings of your houses. Be sure to meet personally with anyone returning to the monastery after an absence of more than a week. You will be issued specific guard details soon." She gestured to dismiss them "May the Goddess watch over us all."

~o~*~o~

Guardian Moon

"And what" The Flame Emperor demanded "was the purpose of setting the whole monastery to alarm?"

"Ah, Kronya's methods are offensive, yes, but we could not pass over the opportunity. With the Knights seeking us _without_ it was simple to strike _within_ , since we've been able to identify a number of the Cardinals with your information."

"To what end? Stymieing my movements at this juncture… If I am unable to coordinate my forces arrivals, it will not end well. The path through the Kingdom is not secure enough to openly march my advance troops, let alone an army."

"Flame Emperor, you are our greatest creation, but make no mistake, the Cardinals are _hers_ " Thales countered. "We gave you the defiled beast's blood so you may burn even the gods and bring about our salvation; by unravelling the secrets of the Cardinals we only clear your path."

"Hmph. _Unravelling._ Do you intend to repeat the gruesome deeds of Duscur and Enbarr? There will be no salvation for you or your kind if these measures continue."

"All for a purpose. All to give you the power you need. But do not worry," Thales smiled "Solon has grown in wisdom. The blood of the girl has been of great benefit. We will not need to take such… _visible_ , measures as Duscur, nor so prolonged as Enbarr. With the Cardinal in our hands, it is possible we may break even the great ward of Garreg Mach."

The Flame Emperor paused

"Ailell is no less an atrocity than Duscur. My troops will be more than sufficient."

"You may call it an atrocity if you wish, but it would bring about the swiftest end. In one stroke we would shatter the remains of the defiled beast, that false goddess, and all her supporters; Seiros among them. With the lines of the Kingdom and Alliance into the bargain. How long might your people otherwise suffer under the gears of open war?"

The Flame Emperor was silent. Thales's smile was sharp enough to draw blood.

"It is only a possibility at present. But you may wish to bear it in mind. Keep your forces… mobile."

~o~*~o~

Ignatz, still working through a concussion, had managed to produce a credible portrait of Kronya. Everyone who had been in the cathedral with him agreed it was a good likeness, so Claude took it to pass around the academy, maybe post it on the bulletin by the dining hall, that way everyone would know the face of at least _one_ of the people causing all this chaos.

Remire, the Beasts in the Chapel, Captain Jeralt, abducting a Cardinal –just what were these people after? Solon had claimed to be part of Flayn's abduction, and the Death Knight had been involved in that _and_ had been with the Western Church. Did this plot go all the way back to Lonato's rebellion? What was smoke and mirrors and what was real?

He hesitated in front of the Captain's quarters. It was silent within, but… she was there.

Since the ball he'd been ambivalent over what to do about his feelings for Byleth, about what he would even call them. A crush he could handle; she was beautiful and his eyesight had never been in question, it would be natural. A crush could be indulged in and set aside at whim. A crush was the best case scenario.

The chances of that scenario had plummeted as he danced with her, and all but vanished when he saw that shattered, world-ending, look on her face as Manuela pulled her away from her father's corpse. He wanted to be the person she turned to for support. He wanted her smiles, her laughter. He wanted her _trust_.

It terrified him that that had happened without him noticing until it was too late. He had watched her too closely, "slowly, slowly" had backfired on him, spectacularly. Better to have driven her off with clumsy enthusiasm than unveil the woman beneath the Ashen Demon. But no, he'd had to get to know her, had to make friends, hadn't he?

And there was the crux of it, really. He was her friend. She was suffering and he was dithering. Whatever his feelings were, nothing was going to come of them _now_ , while she was grieving. He _should_ be offering her comfort; he _should_ be checking in on her. He _shouldn_ _'t_ be hesitating to spare himself from what might happen –from what might _never_ happen.

He only had to open the door…

His hand lingered on the handle…

This was ridiculous. Nothing would start, nothing would end, nothing would _change_ , if he just checked on her. He was probably over-reacting anyway. The ball had been a night keyed up towards romance and of course emotions were running high after an attack, after losing so imposing a figure as the Blade Breaker. He was mistaken. He was being ridiculous. Of _course_ it was just a crush. He could deal with that.

A sound echoed down the corridor and he turned on his heel, dropping his hand and carrying swiftly on towards the stairs.

Had any of the tormentors from his childhood been there, _now_ he would agree with them. For the first time Claude would say he deserved to be called craven.

~o~*~o~

"Edelgard, are you well?" Professor Seteth's voice cut across her introspection and she blinked, suddenly back in the room. The rest of the class had left, it was only her and the Professor.

"My apologies, Professor. My mind was elsewhere."

Seteth frowned "It is not like you to lose focus, may I inquire what troubles you?"

"My Father is ill." She blurted the first excuse that came to mind, then clamped her mouth shut, horrified at herself for having said as much; it was hardly a secret, but one did not bandy about the health of the Emperor!

Seteth's expression softened and he crouched by her desk, bringing his tall frame down to level with her. "I see. Despite our recent tribulations, Edelgard, if you need to return to the Empire-"

"No" She interrupted "Thank you, no. It is not so grim as that. I will, likely, need to visit before graduation, but I can wait until the Knights are returned."

"Is there any way I may assist you in the meanwhile?"

Edelgard took a deep breath and recomposed herself "If you would, please, forgive my abstraction. It shall not happen again."

"There is nothing to forgive. If you need anything, my door is always open. Even if all you need is something as simple as an extension on your next essay, you have but to ask. The counsellor too, is available to you. You may bear heavy burdens, but you are not alone, Edelgard. Now then," he said rising again "perhaps you will join Flayn and I for dinner?"

"Thank you, I'd be delighted." She answered and followed him out of the classroom.

Flayn was lovely. Seteth was a _good man_. Dimitri was from _before_. Children were already suffering. Claude could see the flaws.

Thales would burn _all_ of Fódlan to ash without hesitation, if it would advance his goals.

Would she?

~o~*~o~

Hubert did not hesitate. He knocked once perfunctorily and strode in, coming to stand above where Byleth was curled up against the arm of one sofa, her father's journal clutched in her hands. There was evidence that Manuela, or perhaps Alois, had been through –blankets and a tea-tray, with very little taken from it, but it was apparent that she had been left alone in her misery for some time now.

"I'm not one for condolences." He began shortly and held her dagger out to her "But consider this; the church is hunting Jeralt's killer, the girl who took the cardinal, even as we speak. They will find her. When they do they may tell you, or they may not. I _will._ "

"…and what do you want for this information?" she asked in a voice raw from crying and disuse.

"I wouldn't be so crass as to demand a price from you at such a moment. Call it… an exchange of favours."

Byleth stood and took the dagger from him. She sheathed it in a smooth motion and met his eyes with the blank-eyed stare of the Ashen Demon.

"Get me a shot at that girl's neck, and I will see you repaid." She promised.

~o~*~o~

When she entered the barracks, all the men were present. Conversations died and they stood as she came before them. Sanderson cleared his throat

"Well, Ashen One, what's it to be?"

"Vengeance." She answered sharply, then continued; "Any who would stand aside, do so now and go in peace."

Not a man moved. Silence reigned as each of them in turn met her demanding gaze, made all the harsher for the shadows beneath her eyes and the tear tracks still visible down her cheeks.

Willard took two heavy steps to stand directly before her.

"We're with you, Boss."


	17. Your Mortal Minds Are Confounding

Guardian Moon

The Guildmaster was sympathetic when she negotiated with him -very accommodating to her requests. He had only kind words to say about Jeralt –everyone she came across told her of a drink they'd shared, training they'd taken part in, a battle they'd witnessed; she hoarded every mention of him like a treasure, added to the safe in her mind as she made her way once more to the Captain's quarters.

Like her, he hadn't been a person for material possessions. A couple of books, a well-used shaving kit in a leather roll, his familiar flask… aside from his journal and her mother's ring the only item of any significant value, sentimental or otherwise, was a silver compass, the case of which was inlaid with amber in the form of the sigil she had worn all her life.

She pulled a loose thread from one of his spare tunics, wrapped it round the hilt of her dagger and that was it; all of his effects collected, his presence cleaned from the room.

Her fingers trailed over the edge of the desk where they had sat together (such a short time ago really, but it felt like years) and gone over her first official contract as head of the company.

The ragged edge was in her throat today, threatening to choke her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to force it back. Desperate for any distraction, even if her mind would not let her thoughts roam too far, she called out to Sothis.

" _Why don_ _'t I remember?"_

" _Do you wish to?"_ Sothis asked with some incredulity, understanding what she was referencing immediately

" _No,_ _"_ Byleth replied and in the space of one breath to the next found herself standing in front of the throne once more, the Goddess regarding her from her seat "but I… _expected_ to. I _know_ what happened, what I did, what I tried, and yet the memories are faded –I know I used that power in Remire as well but I don't recall _what_ happened, only _why_. The same the first time –I _know_ I took a fatal blow for Edelgard, or was about to, but I can't recall it."

Sothis sighed, bracing her elbow on the great stone armrest and leaning her cheek against that hand. "I may know how this power works but that does not mean I know how to explain it to a mortal. Let me see… if you were to cut your hand just now, then turn back time, would your hand be bleeding?"

"No?"

"Precisely, because it did not happen. You may tell yourself that it happened, but that would not cause your hand to bleed. Your memories are the same –when you go back you tell yourself what occurred… but it does not occur, so your body does not form the memory. Perhaps you might conjure a phantom pain, but that is all it is; an echo, a ripple of what might have been that grows smaller the further from the epicentre you go. The flow of time smooths over… and so you forget. Or rather, you remember only what _did_ happen."

"But I _did_ use that power, multiple times."

"No…" Sothis huffed "Let me put this another way; the future does not exist."

"That… doesn't help."

"Of course not, I have not explained it yet!" Sothis answered, dropping some softness in her manner in favour of the more usual chiding "It may be difficult for you to comprehend, but accept it for now; the future does not exist. All there is, is the present which is built upon the past." Byleth nodded slowly "When you return, the time that you were in becomes the future, and so vanishes. You cannot get back to it, save by exactly repeating those actions that led you there in the first place. Even to say "when you return" or "when you go back" is a misnomer; my power does not change the _past_ , it changes the _present_. You used my power, multiple times, to enter into the present, destroying the future. You feel the beat of time as I do; there is only one rhythm, and it drowns out the beat of any other time that may have existed. If you were to focus and meditate perhaps you could recall the other times, but they would be jarring, discordant; the mind naturally shies from them."

"But I recall the conversation we had –when you stopped time."

"Time _stopped_ is not the same as time undone, why would you forget that? It is a coda to the rest of time, it exists outside the melody, but part of it nevertheless. Really, I cannot make this any simpler for you."

Byleth was silent for a moment "You change the present by moving backwards… What… what would happen if I moved forwards?"

"I would stop you." Sothis answered, sitting up straight, eyes flashing. Suddenly she blinked, her expression was confused "I… why would I…?" She frowned heavily, eyes unfocused as she thought, sounding out her conclusions slowly but with gathering surety; "At best… it would not work. The flow of time is where, or when, it is and you cannot advance beyond it. At worst… you would come to see the shape of eternity, which would likely drive you mad, or you might step outside of time altogether into an empty, formless void. Neither prospect is particularly appealing."

"No…" Byleth agreed, and then despite her efforts at distracting herself, felt tears building in her eyes once more "If the future does not exist, why couldn't I change it?"

Sothis's expression softened once again "Oh Child… If turning back the hands of time was not enough, if all your efforts could not save your father, then you must learn to accept it as fate; you are not to blame, you did not fail him. You gave everything."

~o~*~o~

She had hardly closed the door behind her before Hubert rounded the corner. His eyes darted in each direction as he approached her, confirming they were alone.

"The Sealed Forest." He hissed lowly "The Church is scrambling to put a force together –they did not expect to find them so soon or so close, the majority of the Knights are searching further afield."

Byleth nodded her understanding, mind recalling the geography of the area –she had learned much in the library of late. "I thank you. Will you come with us?"

"If I can arrange it," he agreed "I do intend to see you get your shot."

She nodded once more and passed him as she made her way towards the stairs. The Entrance Hall was in confusion when she arrived, the Archbishop herself, attended by Seteth, was overseeing the arrangement of guards to remain and forces to sortie out to rescue the Cardinal.

"Byleth!" Rhea called and it was apparent she was disconcerted to see her there "I will require your troop to man the walls, there is-"

"Apologies, Lady Rhea, but that will not be possible." Byleth interrupted and the commotion around them stilled. Rhea's eyes narrowed but it was Seteth who spoke next

"Miss Eisner, we will make allowances for grief, but your employment here-"

"Ended." Byleth interrupted again. "One hour and seven minutes ago. I have spoken with the Guildmaster, collected my Father's effects and my troop have cleared the barracks and are awaiting me in town. Jeralt's Mercenaries are a free company once more and we have business in the forest to attend."

"Please, Byleth. Do not act carelessly." Rhea insisted "I ask that you leave this to us. Losing you so soon after losing Jeralt would be unbearable."

Byleth turned to face the Archbishop, her expression impassive. She sent a thought to Sothis and after a moment, received her assent to continue, carefully, in a low voice; "Thank you for the sentiment, but it is not the end of Eisner's line you fear, is it?" Rhea's eyes widened and scanned across Byleth's face with a strange light rising in them –hope perhaps "No, I thought not." The mercenary concluded and turned to continue towards the gate, her voice raising once more as she passed "You can't stop me. I advise you not to try. But in thanks for your hospitality I shall do what I can about returning your Cardinal to you."

"Rhea?" Seteth asked once Byleth had gone, concerned by her pale complexion and the unknown connotations of the mercenary's words "Are you well?"

Rhea startled and turned to him, eyes bright and expression fierce "We have not a moment to lose. Which house is best prepared to sortie immediately?"

~o~*~o~

Destroy the enemy in the sealed forest and rescue the Cardinal. That was simple enough, he supposed. Good, clear objectives.

Return Byleth Eisner to the Monastery, whether she willed it or no – _that_ was…

There were several things wrong with that order.

Firstly, he hadn't even known Byleth had left; although it was easy enough to guess _why._ She was hunting Kronya and, to be honest, that had been pretty high up on Claude's list of what he'd expected her to do when given the chance, but he hadn't thought she'd _leave_ to do it. Secondly, returned against her will, if needs be? If she had left then, yes, it was a loss to the Church, but what could possibly be so important about one mercenary that it would make them want her back badly enough as to resort to capture, if she wouldn't come of her own volition? Thirdly, why didn't Seteth know the answer to that? He'd seen the shocked look the advisor had sent Rhea as she gave that command; he hadn't seen it coming. Fourthly, what did Professor Manuela know? It hadn't been shock that crossed her face, but a sort of grim, defiant, acknowledgement. She clearly didn't _like_ the order, but… (Fifthly, why couldn't he accept that Byleth leaving Garreg Mach was okay? _He_ _'d_ be leaving in a couple of moons. It was fine. They were going to have parted at some point, even if he convinced her to come work for him. _It was just a crush._ He'd get over it)

Lastly, how and _why_ had Hubert attached himself to the mission?

Apart from the 'potentially capture-your-ally-by-force' thing, that might be the most worrisome part of the situation. Hubert was rarely separated from Edelgard longer than a couple of hours, if this was worth so much of his time and attention… Something was up, Claude had no idea what it was and he _did not like it_.

He didn't even have time to think it through as they raced down to the forest by a path Seteth had mapped out for them for speed. The moment they arrived he was confronted by the sight of four Demonic Beasts and a whole host of enemies. Kronya stood prominently, commanding the central space of a large stone arena towards the back of the grove they were occupying, and above her on a higher terrace over a complex set of seals, Solon was performing some ritual on the Cardinal who hung suspended from nothing in mid-air.

Two of the Beasts flanked the edges of the rise where he could just make out stairs –guard dogs, he could ignore those for now- but one filled the path before them, the other lingered to the west, blocking the other route but also prepared to spring forth and push them into a pincer.

Press forward and deliberately draw the other beast into attacking them, or split their forces, a group to each side? Were those stones on the Demonic Beasts' heads? What was Solon doing? How long did they have until he finished? How far ahead of Byleth were they? What was up with-

Oh...

Shit.

_Leonie_.

~o~*~o~

Hubert could admit to some admiration for Claude. For his mind at least, if not his manner. He had been playing his own game at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion and had played it well at that. Now, thrown in to a field he could not have predicted or prepared for, Hubert could see the moment that mind of his sharpened in, narrowing down to perhaps five paths to victory, in place of the whirling vortex of _possibilities_.

Hubert was no tactical slouch himself; he saw the reasons for sending 'Jeralt's Greatest Apprentice' and the rest of their cavalry to the west instead of allowing her to careen down the northward pass. Let her burn some of that fire out on the long route, let cooler heads prevail. He also saw why he was kept to the back, nearby the young Lord. He didn't expect to be trusted, and it happened to suit him. If by chance they survived this encounter, then the less Kronya and Solon (especially Solon) saw of him the better.

It also put him in position to see the moment Jeralt's Mercenaries arrived in the west, coming through the forest almost at level with the stone platform. Byleth Eisner was not recognisable as the wrecked figure he'd bargained with. Instead he was faced one more with the formidable mask he'd first encountered several moons ago. Her eyes roved the field, marking positions, assigning weights and values, assessing probabilities and outcomes at a glance.

Then she made her move.

He had not doubted. Lady Edelgard had declared her exceptional and so she must be. He had seen something of it himself at the Chapel and in various activities around the Monastery.

But now, as she issued orders to her troop and strode forward, a commander and not the commanded, now he _understood_.

~o~*~o~

Byleth had always had _feelings_. Preferences. Tastes. Emotions. However, her unbeating heart had tethered down the flights of her joy and happiness, her rage and despair. Her emotions did not buffet her about. Her pulse may quicken with activity, but it did not race.

And yet, since that moment in the graveyard, when her Father had held her and wished that she might one day find love as he had (Or, earlier? When the men had cheered for her when they were done with the cold of Gautier? Or earlier still, when Sothis had first awoken?) her reactions had changed. She smiled when happy, laughed and discovered what joy was, frowned as her consternation with a puzzle grew, cried when despair overwhelmed her…

…and then receded.

In its wake was anger.

Her heart was still unbeating, calm. Byleth's anger did not boil over into the tunnel-vision berserker rage her Father had fallen into down in the passages of Garreg Mach. It did not freeze her into numb cruelty as likely to hurt herself as those around her. It simmered at the back of mind, just underneath her thoughts.

And then she saw Kronya and that simmering anger crystallised into straight, sharp edges, ready to cut through the morass, unhesitant.

Anger did not bring Byleth to unthinking rage or cruelty.

It brought her focus and determination.

The woman who stepped out onto the field was more the Ashen Demon than she had ever been. The battlefield was a board before her.

And she was its master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you. 
> 
> Yes, you. You with the Byleth-remembers-every-death-she-rewinds-trope. You with the admittedly beautiful hurt/comfort fics. 
> 
> I see you.
> 
> I see you, and I raise you wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey shenanigans, because I have killed Jeralt twelve times in this fic and just **no**. I am not doing that trope. Here’s my alternative. 
> 
> Also, can we talk about the “Fate” thing? Yes? Good. I don’t like it. I think the emphasis should be and is; _accept_ it as fate. Not, it _was_ fate. Accept it, in order to move on/process/survive. Obviously, we in the meta outside the game understand that there is nothing we can do to save Jeralt. Its coded in. We could call it an inescapable fate. But from Byleth’s point of view, from Sothis’s? Maybe there is a way to save him, there might be a set of moves that would leave them in position to save him, they could freeze time and try to run through the scenario for eternity trying to find an escape. Jeralt’s death doesn’t need to **be** fate. Just accepted as such to absolve Byleth of the guilt. 
> 
> And yes, this is my position on the matter even though I killed him twelve times in this particular fiction; it isn’t fate.
> 
> Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.


	18. A Test of Your Character

Guardian Moon

The enemies in their immediate vicinity fell under the breath-taking efficiency the Ashen Demon was known for. Byleth then sent Raoul and two others south to connect with the students on the west-most path and ordered Sanderson to take the rest north to engage the Demonic Beast there and hold the stairs against reinforcements.

She did not want any interference.

On the eastern side of the stone platform, the rest of the Golden Deer house were fighting off the forces that held the ground between the line of the forest and the stairs leading up towards Solon and the Cardinal, with Kronya taunting them all the while. It seemed like she was about to move off and engage them when the sound of Byleth's heels on the stone caused her to turn around.

It was a moment before she recognised her.

"Facing me alone? You're a fool to be so brazen. You'll never avenge your father at this rate."

Byleth's response was to raise her sword and slide into stance. Kronya shrugged "Well, I did warn you."

The girl was fast, striking twice in quick succession and whirling away before Byleth could turn her parries into counters, the strange tails of Kronya's outfit were patterned to be confusing and mesmerising but Jeralt had trained his daughter better than to fall for a trick like that; she kept her eyes focused on the assassin's feet and blade.

Byleth put some force behind her next parry, and the next. On the third their blades locked and in the test of strength Byleth came out comfortably ahead, opening a line across Kronya's collarbone as she was tumbled back, off balance, when the mercenary broke the lock. Byleth advanced, but the girl was quick to recover, rolling to a crouch and pushing off like lightning, scoring a gash on Byleth's bicep as they exchanged positions, turning quickly to not leave their backs exposed to each other.

A roar from the west let her know Sanderson and the others had felled the Beast there and were dealing with the other forces. Pressing forward on the wings of her troop's victory, the mercenary led the next exchange, forcing Kronya to dodge and counter heavy swings; the girl's arms and the blade Athame trembled when Byleth's sword crashed into them.

"Kronya!" Solon called out from above them "The ward holds; time to depart."

"I'd be delighted to join you Solon, just as soon as I finish with my guest!" She called back in a sing-song voice before dropping low to try and sweep Byleth's feet from under her.

Byleth jumped the leg sweep, falling back. Solon muttered something guttural in another tongue and the Cardinal started to gasp and scream. From the racket in the east she judged that the students had engaged the Beast on that side in their effort to rescue her. Kronya redoubled her attack, but Byleth did not allow herself to be pushed back any further. Her face remained a blank slate as she countered each swipe and swing Kronya levelled at her.

Athame was an odd knife, the thickness was on par with a sword, but dark runes had been carved along the blade, altering the depth in strange places. Kronya was evidently practised with it, and well used to the balance and heft, however as the fight progressed it became obvious that she favoured the assassin's quick strike and could not keep up against the conditioned endurance of the mercenary. Byleth's sword crashed heavily against the knife again and again and the assassin began to fall into stances and moves better suited to a shorter blade; something more like a dagger. Athame was too heavy to transition between these forms as gracefully, and Byleth saw her opportunity; catching the edge with her cross-guard she wrenched it aside and swung across Kronya's midsection.

It was only speed that saved her, tumbling back Kronya prevented the wound from being fatal, but Byleth's sword had still bit deep into her side.

"How could I really lose, to a lowly creature like you?" She spat, pressing her free hand against the wound. She readjusted her grip on the hilt, preparing to spring forth once more.

Hoofbeats.

Raoul had joined up with the students in the south, clearing Leonie's path for her. The would-be mercenary hadn't hesitated, her horse thundered up the path, spear pointed directly at Kronya with a war-cry spilling from her mouth.

Several things happened all at once; the Cardinal's screams intensified as she writhed in mid-air, Solon disappeared and reappeared at the edge of the stone platform a dark mist forming in the palm of his hand and trailing down from it like smoke as he approached towards them, the last Demonic Beast called out a death-knell, Byleth started to charge…

Kronya turned her attention to Leonie, and with a speed that defied her wound, ducked to one side driving her blade deep into the mass of the horse. The creature died almost instantly, falling to the ground with Leonie's leg caught beneath it, a sharp yell of pain covering the sound of breaking bone.

Kronya ducked under Byleth's heavy swing and stumbled back towards Solon. Her eyes darted between Byleth's advance and Leonie's open form.

She lifted her blade and _threw_ it at Leonie.

There wasn't a measure of time small enough to describe the moment Byleth had to make her decision in. Attack or defend. Kronya was open, but Leonie was prone. She had a clear shot to the girl's heart, but Solon was almost upon them. Her blade was at the ready to go either direction, the Cardinal was _screaming,_ her opening to take revenge was slipping away.

It wasn't a _decision_ in the end, really. It was simply her honest reaction.

She swung her sword and Athame clattered flat to the ground. Solon gripped Kronya's shoulder and they disappeared into the ether.

~o~*~o~

The dark mist Solon had conjured crept outward along the ground, gaining speed as it spread until it covered the northern portion of the battleground. For a moment, nothing happened, it only lingered around their ankles, harmless.

Then the dead rose and attacked in a red-eyed fury.

Then the Cardinal, with one last cry, transformed into a White Beast.

~o~*~o~

Byleth decapitated the risen creature that had once been Leonie's horse before it could crush or trample the girl further. It began to dissolve into black ash as the dark power that had animated it left, and she scanned around, taking stock of the battlefield once more.

Sothis was _furious_. She didn't speak, still thinking better than to distract Byleth in battle, but the sight of the undead had riled her like nothing ever had. Even the sense of _Wrong_ they exuded paled before the Goddess's derision. Byleth was careful not to lean on their connection; Sothis's anger burned like the sun, a far cry from any chastisement that had ever been directed at _her_.

Her troop and the Golden Deer were occupied with the dead rising around them, she and Leonie were alone on the platform. Manuela and Marianne were a ways off, beset by enemies they had just killed, and Byleth's own healing magic was at best still rudimentary. Perhaps she could heal the bruising to Leonie's side and back, but the shattered leg? –Leonie wouldn't be moving any time soon.

And they were right in front of the White Beast, which glowered at them from the rise it perched on. A terrible scream pierced through them, and it's wings expanded to block even the dim light that filtered down into the forest, casting them into shadow.

Byleth took two firm steps in front of Leonie and swung her sword up into a double-handed grasp, awaiting her opportunity.

~o~*~o~

Lysithea was shaking from the sudden appearance of the undead –and worse, of undead who had once been part of her own battalion. Faced with it himself, Claude did not blame her. He stayed as close by as he could, calling out reassurances to her over the steady thrum of his bowstring.

Hubert was pulling his own weight, observing with a sort of fascination as his targets disintegrated in the wake of his magic. His dark chuckles filled the air. And yeah –between the two Claude thought Lysithea was having the better reaction.

He couldn't think about his own reaction just yet. He was absolutely sure he'd _have_ one, but there was too much _else_ to focus on at the moment. His thoughts flowed freely as his body fell into the steady pattern of aim, draw, release. Was Leonie alright? Was Byleth really fighting the Cardinal alone? He would need to switch to an axe or start pulling arrows from the ground soon. Why hadn't the Demonic Beasts resurrected? –Not that he wasn't thankful they hadn't. What sort of spell was this? Manuela was calling him to move up and cover Hilda and Marianne as they advanced towards Leonie. What had _happened_ to the Cardinal? Why did it (she?) look so much like that single image of the Immaculate One he'd found? What had Solon been trying to do with her? What did Rhea want with Byleth?

Was he going follow orders? To try and bring her back to the monastery for answers?

His eyes met her lapis gaze for a split second as she dodged the creature's attack; a blue fire it spat at her like a bolt of Thoron. She had grounded it; broken one of its wings, and it chased her figure about the stone platform as she weaved before it –turning it away from Leonie, Hilda and Marianne!

She backed towards the pillars at the far corner of the platform, and caught his eye again deliberately, raising a brow, head tilting just a fraction back over her shoulder.

He may as well have read her mind for how quickly her plan, her request, snapped into clarity for him. He didn't hesitate in carrying it out; calling up all the archers under his command, including Ignatz and his battalion, to aim and draw…

The tip of Byleth's sword traced figure-eights in the air, keeping the beast's attention. She sliced the clawed edge of a wing that swiped at her, and jumped away from the following back-swing.

Claude's arms strained with the tension of keeping his bow at the ready.

The Beast that had been the Cardinal drew up, preparing another breath attack. Byleth ducked behind a pillar.

" **Release!** " He commanded and two flights of arrows shrilled through the air to thunder down upon it's back, piercing through skin and shredding the membrane of its wings, the ground around it blooming in a flowerbed of fletching.

It's death-throes were loud but mercifully brief as the white ligaments that made it unravelled and flowed away into nothingness. The ruined body of the Cardinal fell to the ground, surrounded by arrows in the outline of a much larger form.

~o~*~o~

Manuela's voice rang out as she called for the Golden Deer to account for themselves as the last of the undead disintegrated, and Byleth moved over to the edge of the stone platform where her own men had started gathering to check on them. There were a number of burns and gashes in Sanderson's group that she was just capable of healing enough that they would no longer be considered wounds. Raoul and company arrived and he waved her off with a scowl ("Not a scratch on us Demon, looks like all the fun was up here") then the group fell silent. Byleth turned to find Leonie, leaning on Hilda and staring intently at the ground between them, her expression remorseful.

"I'm sorry."

In hindsight, Leonie could see that Byleth had been in control of the duel with Kronya. Had been winning, even. Her intervention hadn't been _assistance_ , she'd charged up without thinking and cost Byleth her vengeance; cost them both their vengeance.

Byleth and the rest of the mercenaries were silent. Leonie tensed like one expecting a blow.

"Next time." Leonie looked up, Byleth's eyes were a shade softer than absolute neutrality, but only that and no more "Next time, together."

Leonie nodded and faced the ground again as Byleth swept past without a second glance.

~o~*~o~

" _Did you notice?"_ Sothis asked as Byleth began making her way towards the centre of the platform, Manuela and Claude approaching from the other side to meet in the middle. _"Though the Cardinal was transformed, she did not feel to me as the Demonic Beasts do. The sensation was not…_ _right_ _, I know in my heart that transformation should never have taken place_ _… and yet it felt familiar too."_

" _I hadn't noticed."_ Byleth admitted _"But…"_ she trailed off and a tangled weave of thought flowed between them; Rhea had altered _her_ heart somehow, the Cardinals were kept secret, where had Rhea learned to do whatever had been done to Byleth, would she transform like that as well under the right circumstances, what part had Solon's magic played, how was Sothis's consciousness tied to it all?

" _I see your point"_ Sothis agreed after a moment to parse through it all and draw her own conclusions _"Little though I like admitting a gap in our knowledge to anyone else, if you will be pursuing these…_ _ **wicked**_ _ones, who appear to be enemies of the Church, it would be best to know all that Rhea does. About them, and about yourself_ _… Promise me, whatever we learn, swear that you will cut a path that is your own. I trust in you –I must, I have little enough choice in in the matter. And yet… I am glad it is_ _you_ _to whom my fate is bound._ _"_

Something glinted in the corner of her eye and Byleth paused her stride to look down at Kronya's blade. She lifted it from the ground and resumed her pace. _"You may be assured; I will keep hunting them. Her. And… I promise to walk my own path."_

Manuela had paused perhaps a yard or so from the exact centre of the platform, Claude at her elbow, but Byleth crossed the unspoken line without hesitation, holding the blade out for the doctor to take.

"Can you teach me to heal the wounds these weapons leave?"

Manuela held the knife carefully, her eyes roving across the edge and flicking up to the gash on Byleth's arm; only now beginning to turn tacky, and not yet scabbed over. She lifted a glowing palm to it and eased it through the healing process. When she removed her hand, there was not even a mark to show the wound had been there.

"Yes, I suppose I can. If you'd let me keep this, I can start teaching everyone." Byleth nodded "But, Byleth… You would have to return to Garreg Mach with us and…"

"…What our dear Professor is trying to say, is that Rhea, sorry, Lady Rhea, _ordered_ your return." Claude added, when it seemed that Manuela had lost her words "You should at least be aware that you may be walking into a cage."

"I expected as much" she sighed, then met his eyes directly "Thank you, by the way. I appreciate the assist earlier."

Claude laced his hands behind his head and dropped a wink "Well, following your command kept me alive before. I don't see any reason to stop now, Milady Mercenary."

Byleth smiled briefly then turned back to Manuela "Please inform the Archbishop that I'll attend her tomorrow morning, after the troop and I have rested."

~o~*~o~

There was a little confusion when they reached the town and Jeralt's Mercenaries separated from the students who were returning to the Monastery proper. In the commotion, there was room for one exchange to go unnoticed;

Byleth stood before him, and _Hubert_ felt uneasy under her steady gaze. He did his best not to show it, to maintain eye contact and after a moment she inclined her head slightly.

"You did your part." She acknowledged.


	19. Invitations Beneath Our Feet

Pegasus Moon

Despite setting the time of their meeting herself, Byleth had half expected the Knights of Seiros to come looking for her that night for an audience with the Archbishop. Her Father had told her it was either grace, or because no-one could be spared to stop him, that had allowed him to leave the Knights so easily twenty years earlier. Byleth had no reason to expect grace, but the majority of them were still afield, so her little power play went uncontested.

When she entered the Audience Chamber, Rhea dismissed everyone else in attendance. Byleth kept her gaze forward as they filed past around her, continuing her steady measured pace until she stood before the Archbishop.

"Dear Child," Rhea began "it grieves me that so much has passed before we had this opportunity to speak. Jeralt was a friend of many years, I am sorry for his loss. I… lost my own mother, a long time ago. To this day the pain of it can still be overwhelming."

Byleth nodded, but said nothing. She has no response to that speech, and so cloaked herself in her habitual silence. Rhea had evidently expected some other reaction; sympathy or empathy –some immediate bonding over their mutual losses, even when there'd been none between them before- and floundered a little

"I hope… I hope I can convince you to return to your contract with the guild. Decisions made in the thrall of grief are not always for the best. If you resume employment here, then-"

"Then you will send me to the walls when my target lurks in the forest?" Byleth cut in at last. "I will not make the company subservient to the Church when you would hinder our goals."

"I do not mean to deny you revenge. I intended only that you not lose yourself to it, I wished to protect you."

"Why?" She asked it sharply, back straight, chin tipped upwards. Rhea was taller than Byleth, yet she looked _down_ on the Archbishop. She'd learned that look from Sothis. It turned the question into a challenge.

Rhea frowned a little. It was a surprisingly fierce expression, but her face smoothed over into serenity soon enough.

"Do you not know?"

" _Careful now."_ Sothis advised

Byleth paused for a long moment before speaking "Because of my heart. Of what you did to it."

"When you were born, your heart did not beat." Rhea explained "Your mother… in the end, she begged me save your life. Sitri had a gift, a blessing, that passed to you, and using that I… forged a connection, between you and the Goddess. Your heart will never beat, but the Goddess's blessing sustains you. It is a rare and precious gift to be so tied to Her. Within the Church, you are as close to the Goddess as the Saints themselves."

That answered everything and nothing. Rhea at least admitted to having done _something_. But she was also wrong. Byleth's heart _had_ beat. Twice.

"And so you have a living Saint." Byleth mused "But my Father raised me apart from the Church. I am no envoy of the Goddess; I will not be your oracle."

"You have heard Her!" Rhea exclaimed

" _Oh well done."_ Sothis rolled her eyes

"All my life I have had two dreams." Byleth admitted carefully "One is a battlefield," and come to that, now that she saw her up close didn't Rhea look a lot like that warrior? "the other, a girl asleep on a throne carved from stone, somewhere dark and deep… I know her name. I know who she is."

" _She snores."_ she added internally, in return for Sothis's remark

" _I most certainly do not!"_

The Archbishop's eyes were alight; her face was illuminated with the smile upon it "Dear Child; you have been doubly blessed. The Goddess's Holy Light dwells within you, Her spirit calls to you... Deep within Garreg Mach lies the Holy Tomb where the Goddess laid Herself to rest after great exertions. It is little known, but Saint Seiros is said to have received a revelation from the Goddess in that place. Perhaps the answers you seek may be found there."

" _Meaning she will not give us explicit answers_ _unless_ _you go there. Vexing woman!_ _"_

"Very well. Let's go."

"A moment, please!" Rhea's smile was brilliant "I wish nothing more than to see a revelation come to pass –to hear the voice of the Goddess. However, the Holy Tomb is not a place that may be so easily entered. There are many wards and traps in place to protect it. I could not disarm them all before the moon begins to wane. It will be a few weeks at least, until we can begin the ceremony."

" _And now there is a ceremony too!"_

"Is there anything I must do in preparation?"

"No, Child. All shall be taken care of. Although… according to our sacred texts, Saint Seiros had Holy Warriors attending her at the first revelation. You may bring champions of your own, if you wish. I will send a message when a date has been determined."

Champions of her own, Byleth thought wryly as she exited the room Rhea had cleared with but a word. Clearly the Archbishop did not need the Knights of Seiros, nor anyone else, in attendance to be assured of her own power.

~o~*~o~

Byleth wove her way back through the bustling town to the Bishop's Regret where the company had taken lodging, and motioned for Sanderson to join her at one of the few empty booths.

"So, Ashen One, how did the meeting with the illustrious Lady Rhea go?"

"About as badly as it could have. I'm invited to a ceremony towards the end of the moon. The guest of honour even."

Sanderson hissed in a breath through his teeth "Shame that. Frightfully boring these religious occasions. Can't even doze off if you have to be up-front and centre. No offence to Saint Seiros but some of the sermons I had to sit through when I was younger… Still, if the Archbishop is inviting you to events then she ain't driving us off from Garreg Mach."

"No, she isn't. On that, though, I do have a job for you."

"Oh?"

~o~*~o~

When Rhea began to tell him what she intended, Seteth was discomposed, to put it lightly; "One does not simply walk into the Holy Tomb and open it up for whatever mercenary comes along first! No matter what Hanneman thinks-"

"Seteth, enough." Rhea insisted "Hanneman's theory is likely correct. Her Crest most probably _is_ the Crest of Flames. Byleth is… the child I thought lost to the fire twenty years ago. Through her, our dearest wish may finally come to pass."

"You cannot- …How can that be, Rhea? She _is_ Jeralt's child, is she not?"

"She is. And her Mother was Sitri. Byleth has become a vessel of the Progenitor God."

The hope that he had seen rising in his friend this past year now made sense. He had known of her creations; the 'daughters' brought into the world with the goal of reviving Sothis. None had succeeded, and more concerned with Cethleann's protection during her long healing slumber he hadn't considered them further. That they might live and grow beyond their birth and that one might have had a family of her own was beyond his expectations –if that were the case… did not their souls belong to themselves? And for Byleth Eisner, to be brought into this… if Jeralt had known about any of it, Seteth could well understand why he had fled the Knights.

"…You are aware of the – _questionable_ , nature of this experiment, I trust?"

"I understand your hesitance, but I ask you place your faith in me just this short while longer. All will be well... _She_ will return to guide us."

He wondered if she truly _did_ understand his hesitations. His memories of Sothis were dim, far more so than he cared to admit to Rhea. They had faded along with the ability to take another form, his Nabatean heritage diminishing over the millennia, and yet…

He recalled enough to be quite certain that Sothis would… _strongly_ disapprove. The natural rhythm of Birth, Life, Death had been sacred to her; the cycle of both of the Land and the of the People therein. She would not have had _any_ soul sacrificed to her, no circle brought to completion on her behalf.

Wouldn't she? Could it even work as Rhea seemed to intend it would?

"…As ever, Rhea, I take you at your word."

~o~*~o~

Sanderson scowled at her.

"Boss, I don't _disagree_ , but there's a time for everything. Those pallid bastards are obviously targeting the Church. Sending all but half the troop away now isn't going to help you track or catch them."

"They're targeting the Church." Byleth agreed "They'll strike here again."

"And you'll be down your best men."

"Only if you take too long. It's not enough just to take out Kronya… they must have a base somewhere. I intend to dismantle it all. That necromancy… well, you fought it yourself."

"Aye." Sanderson admitted with a sigh "Can't have _that_ running amok."

"So, when the time comes to track their base, we need to be prepared to move. _All_ of us."

"Alright, alright." Sanderson sighed "I'll head out in the morning. If all goes well, we'll even make it back for this fancy service of yours."

"Thank you" Byleth acknowledged, then frowned as someone bumped into the table, glancing round at the very full pub hall. "Is it me or…?"

"It's not you, Ashen One." Sanderson answered, dropping his voice to a murmur. "Those two crews over there are regulars sure enough, they've always been in and out. But the rest… well, it's a strange time for so many to be visiting Garreg Mach. 's half the reason I don't particularly want to be splitting the troop just now."

"Perhaps I should send Raoul with you after all. Keep him out of trouble"

"When I'm carrying that much coin? Don't be cruel Boss, every vagabond in Leicester would waylay us with _his_ luck!"

~o~*~o~

Almost as if she and Sanderson had foretold it, Raoul came to her the next afternoon with trouble.

"You lost your sword… in an underground fighting ring? There's an underground fighting ring in Garreg Mach?"

"Let's face it Demon, if there wasn't I'd probably have fucking founded one by accident." Raoul said around a wince as she pulled his hand away from where it was pressed against a shallow gash on his forehead so she could heal it "As it happens, it was already bloody there. You not been down to Abyss yet?"

"Can't say that I have. Never came across an entrance." She answered, as the gash eased closed. "We can head up to the armourer once I've fixed this, I have the funds to cover-"

"Oh hell no!" Raoul insisted "You know how long it takes to break in a new hilt. No, no, we're getting my stuff back!"

Byleth crossed her arms and levelled a flat stare at him, one eyebrow raised. She said nothing.

Raoul broke.

"Please will you win my stuff back for me, Boss?"

~o~*~o~

Abyss was busier than she had imagined it would be; or perhaps Raoul had simply brought her to the busiest place in it, as it seemed to sprawl for miles in all directions. She at last learned where the Wilted Rose was, and her eyes roved around the place memorising the architecture and layout as Raoul explained a little more than Sanderson had ever let on about the history of it all, and the vagrants who lived there under the protection of the Savage Mockingbird, while he guided her onward.

The "fighting pits" resembled something much more along the lines of a gladiatorial arena than a "pit". There was a very obvious waiting area for contestants and several bookies were plying their odds among the stands as each match started up. She'd seen gaming hells and arenas before, both when Jeralt had to drag his own men out of them or was paid to hunt down someone else's -but nothing on this magnitude.

"Over there" Raoul said nodding to a pair standing on a high level watching the fights. "In the white and purple, he has my gear."

Byleth eyed the young man up and down, weighing and assessing, both him and more imposing man standing alongside him, then she turned back to Raoul; "Really?"

"Hey, I didn't lose the _fight,_ to him, just the _bet._ Okay, Demon? It was some fucking speedy prat who got me. I swear he jumped the bell."

"Excuses." She chided and they made their way round, her mind turning over all he'd just told her. "Pardon me." She called as she and Raoul came within an easy distance of the two men in white "My companion here says he lost a bet with you earlier. I've come to reclaim his honour, if you'll give me the opportunity."

"For a lady as lovely as you? I think you'll find me open to negotiation. The sword and the belt to go with it, was it? I'll give you the same challenge your companion had; stay in for three rounds and you can have it back."

"And if I fail?"

He made a dismissive gesture " _You_ can have the first attempt for free. They call me Yu, by the way." He added offering his hand. 'They call me,' she noted, not 'my name is'.

"Lethe." She answered, shaking it, then made her way down to the pit, after giving Raoul a nod to stay where he was. He stood to one side, listening unobtrusively as the larger man lost every point as he and Yu speculated on the outcome of the matches below them, until it was Byleth's time to step into the arena against the previous winner.

"Oof" said the big guy "unlucky for the little lady. Not a good match-up."

"I can't even begin to understand why you would think that. Clearly she'll win this round." His companion answered "Gerill is too cocky, too keyed up from winning, but look at her. Rock solid."

Sure enough, the fighter in the pit was tapping the blade of his sword against his shoulder, leaning down to taunt Byleth, his face much too close to hers for politeness. The Boss stood at ease, saying nothing, as ever. The bell rang, starting the match, and Byleth's hand shot up from her side, bypassing her sword entirely to clock her opponent right in the face.

He went down like a sack of bricks. There was a momentary silence followed by a surge of activity as the bookies reassessed their odds and started touting them out, as those willing to risk the gamble took a ticket.

"Well. I expected a win but that was certainly more efficient than I'd bargained for." Yu commented.

Byleth stepped out of the way of the attendant who came to drag her first opponent out of the ring, casually ending up in a position where she was facing Raoul as her second opponent entered. She caught his eye briefly and he shook his head once. Not the speedy prat.

"Okay, so she's got some speed, I'll give the lady that." The big guy said "And she doesn't hesitate either, but that won't be enough against a clever grappler like this guy."

"You're biased." Yu drawled "Given the usual calibre of entrants I wouldn't be at all surprised if she's the smartest fighter in the pit this _week_."

The second guy at least had the honour of exchanging blows with Byleth, but he was flat on his back within two minutes, Byleth's foot resting gently against his throat with just enough pressure to make her point, her sword levelled at his heart. She pulled him up once he yielded, directing them once more so she could see Raoul.

This time he nodded. Opponent three was the speedy prat.

"Well, now she's done for. Too bad you didn't ask her for anything when you won the bet."

Yu didn't answer.

It was maybe only half a second, but the prat _absolutely, positively, definitely_ started before the bell, sword moving for that same high blow that had dazed Raoul, opening the gash on his forehead.

Byleth ducked it, and rammed the pommel of her sword straight into his gut. He had no breath after that, no stance, and Byleth dominated the match.

"Huh." Said the big guy.

But when Raoul looked over, Yu was smiling.

~o~*~o~

The fifth round was the one that did for her. Her opponent was a swordmaster and they tested each other to the limit, leaving them both fatigued, but Byleth just cinching it. She got through rounds six and seven by mistakes of her opponents; too eager to be the ones to end her streak, but the eighth kept his cool, and she yielded before long, heading out of the arena to many cheers.

"Well done, Lethe." Yu greeted, as she climbed over the barrier from the participant's area to the stands.

"My prize?"

"Already delivered." He said and nodded behind her. She glanced over to see that Raoul had thrown himself back into the pit and was awaiting his turn. He sent her a thumbs-up and she sighed, turning away.

"That was an impressive streak for someone from Above." Yu continued "May I buy you a drink?"

"I'm afraid my tastes might be too expensive for you." She answered, and began ambling easily along the way Raoul had shown her. Yu fell into step, eyeing her up and down

"Is that so? Let me guess; no Regrets for you, instead a quiet evening in the Prancing Pegasus with a book and a tankard of mead. How close am I?"

"You missed the honey-cakes."

Yu laughed "Of course! How could I? Well, I shan't offend you by suggesting we try the Rose, really the only thing they serve in there worth getting is the gossip. _Something_ Above has the Archbishop in a twist, I hear."

"You're very well informed."

"I have a couple of _ins_ with the higher-ups, you could say. I report how things are ticking along down here, they do the same regarding Above and it all works out quite happily for everyone involved." He paused a beat, eyeing her from the side "Except all of a sudden, there are a lot of new faces popping up in Abyss. Strange groups passing through, none of them staying too long, and none of them to be found when I come asking. A humble street-ear like me doesn't last long down here if he has no information to sell, so, tit-for-tat, if you don't mind?"

Byleth continued her easy pace but mirrored his look, glancing to the side to hold his gaze "Many new faces Above as well. Merchants who don't linger in the marketplace, mercenaries neither signing with the guild nor moving on. Standing room only at the bar."

"Well that is interesting." He said, slowing his pace as they rounded the last corner near the entrance Byleth had used, she matched him and they turned to face each other at the bottom of the stairs "Y'know, I'd feel a lot better having a capable woman like yourself keeping an eye out Above, and I will be your ears below. I'll even keep an eye on your companions for you, if you agree, save you some trouble."

"Tit-for-tat?"

"That is the going rate."

Byleth shrugged one shoulder "Sure, if I have anything for you."

"Splendid. Well I suppose I had better make a start. I look forward to working with you, Lethe."

Byleth nodded, and watched as he turned away, pacing back down the way they'd come "Mockingbird" she called, just before he turned the corner. He paused "next time you want to speak with me, send a note. Don't hustle my men."

Yuri laughed "Touché, Ashen Demon, touché."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my outline, Yuri's introduction was supposed to be three paragraphs.
> 
> Instead you got fight club, I honestly don't know how it happened.


	20. Your First Revelation, Beloved Idiot.

Pegasus Moon

"A Revelation?" Anthony asked the Chef who'd come out on purpose to speak with him.

"That's what they say. Lady Rhea just made a grand sermon about receiving wisdom from the Goddess in troubled times and some hero who'd proven worthy of the attempt. Apparently Lady Rhea is going to be busy preparing for it the rest of the moon, so the Deacons will be running services while everyone else focuses on this. No audiences with the Archbishop at all."

"It would be nice if the Goddess _would_ tell us all what to do. We should be preparing for graduation and the next lot of students just now, but with all this… Who's the hero?"

"Couldn't make out the name in all the fuss and echoes, but the fishkeeper thinks it's the Captain's girl."

"Miss Eisner!?"

"That's the one! The Mercenary."

~o~*~o~

"You've caused quite the stir, you know" Manuela informed Byleth, the next afternoon, as they worked through an intense one-to-one lesson on healing magic. "The whole monastery is talking about this revelation. It's almost impossible to get anyone to focus in class."

"Kindly direct your complaints to the Archbishop." Byleth answered absently, focusing on the spell that she had just –just –almost " _I_ certainly didn't announce it." She concluded triumphantly as the flesh of Alois's arm knit back together seamlessly.

"Faster this time." Manuela instructed, using Athame to open a new line across his bicep. The Knight winced

"When I said I'd do anything to help you out, I didn't intend to make myself a training dummy. Still I suppose it's better than that time the Captain threw a hatchet at my head."

"Oh come, you're providing a vital service. See? She has it down now." The doctor slashed a deeper wound across his arm, and Byleth set to healing it immediately.

"Yes. I'm very proud. Please stop now." He said through gritted teeth.

"Thank you, Alois" Byleth said, as she pulled her hands away from his perfectly healed arm.

"Of course," he answered, softer "you and I are practically siblings after all. I promise you can always rely on your big brother, Alois!"

"A family man through and through." Manuela commented, running a hand along his arm to examine Byleth's work. She nodded to herself then smiled at the mercenary "Well, that's all I can have you practice in good conscience. Deeper wounds have to be experienced in the field, but your spellwork is perfect, even if I do say so myself."

"The glory of progress –all thanks to you, Professor."

"Oh, shush" Manuela waved her off, but she was smiling.

~o~*~o~

The sun was setting as Byleth left the monastery, casting everything in orange. The last time she had watched the sun set had been by her Father's side at the docks and she wasn't yet _ready_ to think about that. She walked quickly, focusing on dodging round people and maintaining her pace to keep her mind from it. The ragged edge of grief wasn't _in_ her body today, but she could almost feel it hovering behind her.

She'd made it through the market and over the drawbridge, past the barracks the company had previously inhabited, before a voice hailed her from behind. The mercenary halted her pace, and turned to see Claude striding forward to meet her, weaving impatiently round passersby. He stopped before her, began to speak, frowned, tried again and got no further. He ran a hand through his hair and took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before asking " _What_ is going on here?"

She figured he must be referring to Rhea's announcement; Manuela had tried to forewarn her earlier, hadn't she? Of course, Claude, who was forever poking at mysteries in the library, wouldn't be satisfied by just the official line. Byleth glanced around the bustling thoroughfare then beckoned him over to a nearby courtyard. She thought the buildings enclosing it were the accommodations of the lower orders of nuns and monks, and the central space was suitably sparse, but there was a simple fountain in the middle to ease the monotony. She took a seat at the edge of it, stretching her legs before her, crossed at the ankles, as Claude hovered nearby.

"What do you want to know, exactly?" She asked. Claude paused for a moment, considering the questions most likely to actually get to the bottom of the mystery.

"Why you?" He decided "I get the Church having some obscure ritual for a revelation, and sure, maybe there's a Holy Tomb nobody's ever heard of, but what in the world do you have to do with it? Why was Rhea so determined you come back from the Sealed Forest?"

"I only have guesses." Byleth admitted "I'm hoping that if I go through with this ceremony I'll get answers, but the short of it is… I was born here, and something went wrong. Rhea stepped in to save my life and whatever she did, for whatever reason, leads her to believe I'll be capable of having a revelation like Saint Seiros did."

"And you couldn't just ask her?" He demanded.

"I tried that." Byleth shook her head "So did Dad. He didn't say it exactly, but its half the reason he left the Knights in the first place. He lost trust in Rhea when she wouldn't answer explicitly. Just hints and riddles."

Her expression had turned sad with the mention of Jeralt, and Claude paced over to sit on the edge of the fountain beside her, leaning heavily on his hands as he tipped his face up to the sky with a sigh.

"And so Rhea has you playing along to her tune… If you're not completely on-board with this revelation thing, you don't need to go through with it just to appease the Church, you know? There'll be other ways to find your answers, if you ask, your friends will help you."

Byleth sat in stupefied silence for a long moment.

" _You have_ _got_ _to be kidding me!_ _"_ Sothis exclaimed _"Did you really not know!?"_

Claude looked over at her prolonged silence, a blush dusting over the ridge of his nose and the tips of his ears as he found her gazing steadily at him. "What?"

"I –Friends?" she asked. Claude blinked, blush fading.

"Um, yeah?" He watched her eyes scanning back and forth, a thousand little events suddenly forming a new pattern in her mind.

"I –I hadn't… realised, I've never…"

" _Are you truly this simple?! Must I spell_ _everything_ _out for you!?_ _"_

" _I know_ _you_ _'re_ _my friend!_ _"_ Byleth shot back internally _"You live in my head! I feel what you feel! How am I supposed to know that about anyone else!?"_

" _Oh, Child. You do not_ _know_ _it. You take it on faith. You listen, you experience, you trust. No other friendship looks like ours. I believe I may have spoiled you._ _"_

"You hadn't realised you have friends?" Claude asked and it was clear he was making an effort to temper his incredulity "Milady, you have lunch with Professor Manuela twice a week, and we know because she's _always_ late to afternoon classes when she's been chatting up a storm with you. Your men are as loyal as can be and Leonie is always going on about- Okay, bad example, you two are on the outs at the moment." he corrected at Byleth's conscious look "But I see you taking tea with Edelgard all the time. All the little kids go on about how great you and Dimitri get along when you're teaching them swordplay. I certainly don't dance stuffy formal dances with just _anyone_ either, for that matter."

A smile was growing on Byleth's face, matching the fond one that was so clearly visible in Claude's eyes.

"Even Lindhart makes the effort to look disappointed when you're not in the library for him to ramble theories at. You have plenty of friends, Byleth."

Byleth looked away with a self-deprecating chuckle "I hadn't thought; I hadn't put a name to it… I think I must be a bad friend myself, if I didn't even notice I had any… I didn't even realise _Alois_ was serious…"

"Well, I'll let you know if I can think of a way for you to make it up to me." Claude teased, and the moment sat comfortably around them until he cleared his throat, turning his gaze back up to the sky as it began the transition from orange to indigo "So, your plan is just to go through with the revelation and see what happens?" he watched her nod and blew out a heavy breath in response "Can't say I like it, Milady Mercenary, usually you have better tactics than that."

"Well… if you wanted to… Rhea said I can bring champions with me to the ceremony; you could be the first, if you like. Watch my back."

Claude gaped; just like that she was inviting him into the Holy Tomb? A place he hadn't even known existed despite all his research? To see this important ceremony; the revelation? She'd trust him to have her back?

He was the first?

Heh.

Shit. No. _Just a crush._ Less than a crush! A mild infatuation. He _was not_ blushing _._

"Well I suppose I can survive observing _one_ secret ritual for your sake." Byleth arched a brow at him "I kid, I kid. Of course I'd be honoured to stand with y-." He froze. "Why would you need 'champions'?"

Byleth shrugged "Saint Seiros had some, apparently. I think… Rhea is just mimicking what happened before and… hoping."

"'Hope' is not a particularly inspiring strategy. I think I like that less than playing it by ear, but… for you, My Friend, I'm in."

~o~*~o~

The strategy, such as it was, came together after that. She had friends who would watch her back and amongst them were three very powerful connections. Perhaps it was wrong to choose them as her witnesses for that reason but, equally, who better to attend Rhea's grand ceremony than the future heads of the three nations? The Archbishop couldn't possibly protest.

Dimitri was in the training grounds, and when she saw him she almost changed her mind; the bags under his eyes, the choppy motions of his usually peerless lancework… she exchanged a speaking glance with Dedue who nodded grimly in reply.

"Ah, Byleth" the Prince spoke, noticing her "Perhaps you can convince Dedue to stop hovering like an old nursemaid. It doesn't suit him."

"His Highness needs rest." Dedue answered

"I only have a headache; I can work through it easier than sleeping it off."

"I won't presume to tell you how to manage your health, Dimitri, however…" Byleth began and was concerned and a little alarmed when Dimitri rolled his eyes at her "however I have a favour I'd ask of you, and I shouldn't like to if you were not well-rested."

"A favour?" He replied, setting aside his lance "That is unlike you, let us hear it."

"You've heard of the Revelation?"

"Yes," he answered slowly "I confess, I'm not sure if I should be offering you congratulations or wishing you luck."

"Perhaps both… In any case, I'd like to ask if you will attend the ceremony? Claude will represent the Alliance, I'd hoped you and Edelgard would stand for the Kingdom and Empire."

"El…" he said blankly, arms crossed. Byleth and Dedue shared another glance, confused, before Dimitri's countenance cleared "I will stand with you through this ceremony, you have my word."

"Thank you." Byleth answered "And… you will rest beforehand?"

"Ha! Yes, very well." He smiled "If the pair of you agree then I suppose there is nothing else for it."

~o~*~o~

Edelgard was not to be found that week –on business in the Empire, Ferdinand told her when she came looking, Hubert along with her. Nothing truly important though, or he'd have heard about it, of course.

The streets of Garreg Mach continued to bustle, and she spent a lot of time in the fighting pits of Abyss to escape the crowds Above with the part of the troop that hadn't accompanied Sanderson. Yuri, properly introduced, probed her for more about the Revelation, but quickly realised she knew as much about the ceremony as he did.

Byleth made herself useful healing the wounds accumulated in the fights until she was as good at mending ordinary wounds as she was with those with the unnatural edges. She would probably never have the range and power of a true cleric, but she'd be more of an asset to the company.

She waited until the day after the Princess's projected return before going in search of her once more, to allow her time to settle back in. When she found her, Edelgard was holding conference with Hubert in her room, a displeased frown on her face

"Is now a bad time?"

"No, please." Edelgard replied, schooling her face and gesturing for the mercenary to enter the room fully "You're the woman of the hour, I hear; what can I do for you?"

"Would you attend the Revelation with me?" Byleth asked and watched the surprise flit across both Edelgard and Hubert's faces

"The Revelation? In the Holy Tomb? You're inviting me?"

"Yes. Claude and Dimitri already agreed. I thought it would be - _appropriate_ to ask all the house leaders; one of my friends from each nation."

"Well… certainly, of course. I would be delighted." Edelgard smiled "Thank you." she added with sincerity.

"I'll let you get back to it, then." Byleth said, making to bow out of the room. Then she hesitated and turned to Hubert for a moment "Now?" she asked.

"Not yet" he replied, and his smile was genuinely amused.

Byleth nodded and departed. Edelgard turned to him

"What was that?"

"A most unexpected boon, your Majesty." He replied easily "And access directly into the Holy Tomb…"

"Less of the 'Majesty' for now, Hubert."

"Of course, Lady Edelgard."

~o~*~o~

Sanderson hadn't yet returned from the errand she'd set him to when the day of the Revelation came. Byleth was a little concerned, but there was nothing more to be done for it than ask Raoul to watch for him as she set off towards the Monastery.

The three Lords of Fódlan were waiting for her in the early morning mist and _quiet_ of the marketplace. Claude quickly stepped to the side so the only space for her to walk in was next to him, with Edelgard on her right and Dimitri on Claude's other side as they came up to the entrance hall where Rhea stood proud and beautiful like a lily.

"What noble champions you have, dear child." She commented, fondly, apparently entirely unshaken by Byleth's choice in companions, and turned to lead them on to their destination.

The device that was to bring them down to the Holy Tomb was unlike anything they'd seen before and Edelgard hesitated, stumbling a little over the step onto it before Byleth steadied her. The descent was smooth and rapid, but as it continued a strange feeling came over her.

She could feel Sothis breathing.

" _I… know this place…"_ the Goddess said _"I…_ _I_ _am_ _here_ _._ _"_

Byleth recognised the Holy Tomb when they entered it. Or Sothis did. The line between them was blurred, blurring, faded. They shared breath and a heartbeat. Byleth walked forward between Claude and Edelgard, but Sothis moved her lungs. They knew that throne ahead of them

" _I am the Beginning. The Progenitor. This is_ _my_ _domain I_ _… I_ _remember_ _._ _"_

From the corner of her eye, Byleth could no longer see the edges of her armour; instead, pink and white ribbons floated past, as though she were wearing them.

"Do you recognise this throne?" Rhea asked

"I-I…" Byleth tried, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

"My Friend?" Claude asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, the ribbons flowed through his arm; they weren't really there and yet they _were,_ she could _feel_ them. Edelgard and Dimitri crowded closer as she swayed on her feet

"I recognise it… I dreamt it" Byleth managed, placing her own hand over her heart –was it actually beating? A sharp pain split her head.

"So long… I have waited so very long for this day. Sit upon the throne, Byleth."

For the briefest moment, a speck of time that she could not wholly process, Byleth looked at the world through the eyes of the Goddess and saw it as it truly was.

Suddenly, the ribbons blazed with radiant light, whiting out her vision. She could hear nothing. She could not feel the connection to Sothis at the back of her mind.

The heartbeat was all that remained


	21. The Path Over My Grave

Pegasus Moon

"Sit upon the throne, Byleth."

" _That will not be necessary._ " The mercenary answered in a voice that was both her own and not, it seemed to echo within itself. " _So much of my power yet lingers here_ _…_ " She strode forward a few paces ahead of them all, Claude's hand falling from her shoulder back to his side, and stood directly before the throne.

Before their eyes, Byleth began to glow, brighter and brighter still until she was almost too bright to look at. At that moment a shadow resolved within her and seemed to step out from her. A heartbeat passed and the light was gone, where once the mercenary had stood were now two figures side-by-side; Byleth, as she always had been, and the figure of a woman too radiant to look upon. In another moment the figure diminished and appeared instead as a girl in ancient attire, _floating_ in the air so she was roughly eye level with Dimitri.

"Sothis, you know everyone." Byleth spoke, gesturing between them "Everyone, this is Sothis. She's been living in my head since… always. You may also know her as the Goddess."

Silence.

And then; "Really! Is that all the introduction I am to expect? You presume upon our familiarity too far! A little respect should not be too much to ask! Honestly, after all you've put me through, throwing yourself in front of axes-"

"That was _one_ time!"

"-and spike traps, and scythes, and-"

"Still only one time that **you** had to save me!"

"-running away from a _ball_ of all things, as if dancing and chatting with charming men is-"

"Stepping out for air is _not_ running away!"

"- **such** a hardship! Really, it would not have killed you to flirt a little! Live in the moment!"

Claude's head tilted towards Dimitri and he said in an undertone; " _This_ is the Goddess?" Dimitri nodded slowly, eyes wide and fixed on the sight of Byleth being scolded by the divine entity. "…I actually like her." Claude added.

"So check your wit, Demon." The Goddess continued, arms akimbo, ribbons fluttering around her in a breeze that didn't touch anyone else "You well know-"

"M-Mother" Rhea spoke, and everyone froze as Sothis's eyes snapped round to her.

"Patience, Child, _your_ turn is coming."

" _Please_ don't delay on my account." Byleth muttered, then wobbled and sank to her knees. All the house leaders started forward, but it was the Goddess herself who laid a hand upon her head.

"It seems I cannot afford to in any case. We are still bound, sustaining _me_ is draining _you_. What trouble you are." She sighed, and leaving her hand on Byleth turned to face Rhea "Very well, my Daughter, you have gone to such great lengths to call me here; speak."

"Mother, I– I have done my best, to be your proxy, but I… I have been so alone, I-"

"And whose fault is that!?" Sothis interrupted

"M-Mother?"

"Do not obfuscate! The longer I linger here the more my mind clears. I _know_ Cichol is nearby, and Indech to the west and Macuil to the east. There is someone else as well, someone new, young and strange to me –is she half human? How wondrous, I did not think it possible. Regardless, your kin surround you! If you have been alone then it has been of your own choosing!"

Rhea was pale and trembling "Mother I needed to see you again, to hear your guidance- you are The Beginning-"

"The Beginning ended long ago, child. All you have ever needed to do is look after the little ones and seek joy; and that can only be found in the _present_ , not the past. Did I not teach you this? You must always live fully in the present moment."

"I cannot guide as you could, only you can lead the world."

"My time is over. You _must_ face forwards."

Rhea's eyes darted to Byleth and back "You could choose-" she began, but cut off immediately as the room darkened and the air drew still. Sothis's posture had straightened, a golden-green light limned her, her nose tipped upward, glaring down upon Rhea.

" _That_ is no choice. You would have me become something more monstrous than that wicked sorcery which turns flesh to puppetry. The foul magic of the likes of Solon! To toy with souls that way is anathema!"

"She had none!" Rhea exclaimed suddenly "No life, no breath, no heartbeat but your own! Her body is more yours than-"

" _Mine_!? It was neither **my** _will_ nor **my** _heart_ that directed her fate! It was the Mother who loved her beyond all hope. That dear and desperate wish for her child to thrive! And so she has! And long may she continue!" Sothis dropped her rigid posture, and light and air rushed back to the room "Sweet Rhealing, what has happened? What are you concealing? What could have brought you to _this_ pass?"

"I-" Rhea _quaked_ where she stood, her voice broken and quavering, tears building in her eyes as the Goddess looked softly and steadily upon her; the Archbishop completely discomposed "I… _Zanado_ , I- I _couldn_ _'t_ , Nemesis- and then-"

Byleth shifted herself from her knees to rest her back against the arm of the throne, one leg drawn up, the other extended before her, she gently waved Sothis off and the little Goddess floated closer to the Archbishop, hovering directly before her.

"-a hundred years …. I hunted him- and- Wilhelm, Luca, I-Iris, the rest, we hunted– but Zanado– always– in my mind– Red, red Zanado, my siblings- their bones- I killed him, _I killed him_ , a-and it didn't stop! Mother!"

"Oh, my stubborn Rhea. Are you still trying to bear everything yourself? Too proud to ever cry? Come." Sothis opened her arms and Rhea took one stumbling step forward then another until she all but fell into her Mother's embrace "It is enough now, let it out."

What passed between Mother and Daughter in that moment none but they could say, but the result was that Archbishop Rhea, the Immaculate One, Saint Seiros, dropped what remained of her façade and broke apart. Over a thousand years of torment spilled from her eyes and her wailing sobs reverberated around them, a eulogy long, long overdue.

~o~*~o~

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Byleth ventured, when Rhea had subsided into quiet gasps and was no longer choking with every breath "but I think something is wrong."

The young Lords of Fódlan looked over to see Byleth, still reclined against the foot of the throne, but now clenching a hand over her heart with an expression of open concern. Sothis, holding Rhea and stroking her hair looked round over her shoulder

"Your heart beat an entire two times this past year. I counted. It was not difficult. Of course now that it is working properly you would think– Oh. No, that is **much** too fast. Time grows short. Hmm, what to do."

Sothis left Rhea, disengaging carefully, and approached Byleth, stepping down onto the floor as she did so and knelt to place a hand over Byleth's heart. The Goddess kneeling before the Mercenary.

"So _much_ of my power dwells in this place. That this ward still holds as strong as the day I set it, truly, I impress even myself. And yet… for you and for I, even with all my memories restored to me, there is only one solution. Will you trust me? Byleth?"

"Yes of course." Byleth answered immediately "But what will you do?"

"I shall return your heart to you, and disappear."

"No" Rhea gasped and slid to the floor on her knees

"You knew it must always end this way, Child." Sothis scolded gently "I stepped through the veil long ago."

"Disappear?" Byleth asked, Sothis hummed

"'The Goddess dwells above, and also in Fódlan'" she quoted "But the part of my power that lingers here should no longer be conscious. The world is imbalanced by my presence –indeed it is imbalanced by a number of presences, now that I am looking for them, but I may leave that much in your hands. Suffice it to say, my daughter is not the only one who chose to forget that the sanctity of death ought to equal that of birth and life. All things in threes." Byleth was suddenly very aware of the sigil on her back. A trinity knot, bound by what she now understood to be the river of time. Sothis gave her a knowing look. "Yes, a strange chance that chose you for me, child of Eisner. Dead at Birth and yet Alive, _but_ so long as there are people there are always exceptions."

The Goddess stood, pulling Byleth with her, and rose into the air until she was floating at her previous height, the mercenary looking up at her.

"Now, this may feel odd, but do not panic." The Goddess stretched her hand forward and the house leaders gasped and took another stumbling step forwards as that hand reached _in_ to Byleth's chest without parting the flesh and withdrew barely a moment later with a Crest Stone. The Crest of Flames burning proudly within it.

Sothis flexed her fingers and the Crest Stone dissolved into golden glittering sand, slipping out of her palm to the floor and disappearing into nothingness. Rhea wailed, crying once more and clutching her arms to her chest.

"There now, it is done." Sothis said with finality.

"Would somebody mind explaining just what is happening here?" Claude asked "Because it really sounds to me as if _The Goddess_ has been living in Byleth, is also Rhea's actual mother and is now just… leaving?"

"Very shortly now, yes. That is the sum of it." Sothis agreed

Claude threw up his hands in a helpless gesture and Byleth smiled

"I understand the answers to my questions now, what was done to me and to you, why we were brought together... But we _were_ promised a revelation."

"Phooey! _You_ have had the benefit of my wisdom these many moons, and do you pay heed? Not hardly! You continue to charge down every hill before you with all the sense of a boulder. Troublesome child." The Goddess paused and turned in the air " _These_ three however have stood by you, at least. I suppose that deserves some recognition."

The Goddess advanced towards them, toes skimming the air, hair and robes falling delicately around her. As she came closer they noticed that she wasn't quite _entirely_ opaque, if you focused you could just make out the outline of the throne and Byleth behind her, though her presence seemed solid enough.

Diverting around the still trembling form of Rhea, she made her way first to Edelgard, who tensed.

"Oh, Daughter of Adrestia" Sothis said, her eyes flickering past her for a split second before locking with her lilac gaze "you walk this path as though it was of your own design, so determined to blaze your way along it, not matter what it may cost you. By rights your path should have meandered always in sunny gardens, but others forced you into darkness… whatever else you may choose, Child, you must wash yourself of Agartha. They will not lead you or your people to brighter days." The Goddess reached forward and cupped her cheek, Edelgard swallowed, eyes wide as Sothis continued " _Truth_ is as much a tool of the manipulator as a lie is, it is all in the presentation. Consider what _facts_ you know and then chart your path accordingly. Once you know your route, I bid you walk it with all your boundless determination."

The Goddess disengaged, leaving Edelgard stunned and unable to do more than watch as Sothis darted quickly through the space between her and the next in their little formation, coming to a halt directly in front of him.

Claude looked at the Goddess. The Goddess looked at Claude.

Claude winked.

Sothis laughed and the whole room seemed to lighten around them.

"Oh yes, I understand you _very_ _well_ , little schemer. You do not need my blessing; but you may have it all the same." She bent a little to kiss his brow and as she withdrew added in a whisper for his ears only; "Your dream is beautiful."

Whatever he may have been feeling in that moment, Claude still had the presence of mind to place a hand over his heart and bow until she had passed on to Dimitri. Or perhaps it was fairer to say that was _all_ he had the presence of mind for.

Dimitri struggled to meet the Goddess's eye, and she paused in front of him longer than for Edelgard or Claude before at last placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking;

"The dead have no claim upon the living." Dimitri drew breath as if to argue, but Sothis cut him off sharply, eyes flashing "None. Seek to right an injustice, as a King must, but do so for those who yet bear the burden of it, whether in suffering or in unthinking prejudice. The dead are past mortal aid. Consign their care to me; you shall have more than enough to think of without adding their burdens to your own. Grieve, and when you are ready, seek out joy once more; you must be prepared to lead your people in happiness as well as sorrow. As King, your first duty must always be to serve the living."

Dimitri hesitated a long moment, then at last nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed back whatever it was he might have said.

Sothis smiled for him and drifted back towards the throne, running a hand briefly over Rhea's head before re-joining Byleth and taking up both her hands. As she did her image grew noticeably fainter, sparks of light beginning to fly off from her feet.

"For you it has been a time of partings, and mine now draws close. I am sorry for it, but you have touched my mind, however briefly, you know more perhaps than a mortal should. I am The Beginning; you know what that means."

"I know it to be true, that you must leave, but Sothis-"

"Hush now, and pay attention, I am not done! I gave you a gift, not so long ago, you know of what I speak. I opened it up in you, and I intend that you shall keep it, but it will likely diminish without my power to draw from; there will be a cost, so do show _some_ prudence in your heroics. The Crest even I cannot answer for, so long has it been pressed against you, but your heart shall at last be entirely your own. You have chosen your cause already, fight it proudly, with all of my gifts.

We shall meet again, you and I. And when that time comes to pass I expect you to tell me of all the great joys, sorrows and adventures of your life. Of all the balls you stayed until the last dance, of all the axes you refrained from throwing yourself in front of, of all your lovers and rivals, children and grandchildren –and it shall be as though I had lived it with you."

"Sothis-" Byleth's voice _broke_ "Sothis, thank you -for being my friend, thank you."

"Do not start weeping!" Sothis exclaimed, cupping both of Byleth's cheeks and wiping the tears away with her thumbs "Not for me. If you must dwell on my memory, then dance and sing. Often!"

"I shall try." Byleth swore, and the Goddess smiled fondly at her, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose in an affectionate tease before pressing their foreheads together and Byleth heard her voice in her mind once more;

" _Thank you. I may not have acted much like a Goddess while we were together, but I had fun, spending these days with you. Live in joy, Byleth Eisner, most favoured of Sothis."_

Sothis let go, and drifted once more to Rhea, setting a hand on her child's head, she drew a breath and _sang_. As she did, her image grew fainter, more sparks of light flurrying from her in shades of green, gold, purple, pink and white.

Rhea joined the song, their voices mingled and filled the space of the Holy Tomb in a rondo until Sothis was gone, leaving one last haunting note and a sense of peace pervading the air.

~o~*~o~

Cloaked in shadows at the back of the room, Hubert waited with Metody at his side.

Lady Edelgard did not give the signal.

The majority of the conversation was easy enough to follow, a word was lost here or there in the echoes, but he got the gist of it. The appearance of the actual Goddess had been somewhat unexpected.

Rather, completely unexpected.

Lady Edelgard did not give the signal.

Then, the Goddess had turned to bestow wisdom on the Mercenary's companions and for a split-second she had met his eyes. From that moment he could hear the conversation as though he stood beside them, was aware of every inflection and gesture.

Truth was as much a manipulator as lies, was it? Yes, he could see how that would be the case. He'd used the notion before himself, come to think of it.

He knew Edelgard, perhaps better than she even knew herself. He knew the direction her mind would turn with that thought.

Lady Edelgard did not give the signal.

The Goddess sang.

Lady Edelgard did not give the signal.

Hubert began calculating how quickly he could neutralise "Lord Arundel's" influence, even as his eyes remained fixed on Edelgard's hand, awaiting her decision.


	22. "..."

Pegasus Moon

The Immaculate One was responsible for the happenings in Enbarr.

Wilhelm von Hresvelg had passed down her identity generation to generation so that each successive Emperor might monitor her.

The Immaculate One had manipulated the history of Fódlan; Nemesis, Crests, Relics in order to maintain power and keep the people from achieving their true destinies.

These were the truths Thales and his ilk had taught her, taught her Father. These were the tenets her plan, her conviction, was built upon. This was the tyrant she was supposed to overthrow.

This woman, collapsed and trembling on the floor of a tomb.

Rhea, responsible for the happenings at Enbarr? She hadn't been there. It was not Rhea who had locked her down in the dark with only the rats for company as her siblings screamed and bled and fell eternally cold and silent around her.

Wilhelm, monitor her? Were there not numerous sources; plaques and dedications to him in the churches of Enbarr, espousing how devout he had been? Had he not written the Imperial Calendar in keeping with the traditions of the faith? Had his purpose been to expose the Immaculate One or to elevate her?

Rhea _had_ manipulated history. But… for this? To bring the Goddess back? …Was she the _only_ one selling a narrative?

Were the Children of the Goddess the enemies of Humanity?

Flayn was lovely. Seteth was a good man. Dimitri was from _before_. Children were already suffering. Claude could see the flaws. Thales would burn Fódlan to ash.

The Goddess bid her walk her _own_ path. _Her_ own path.

"False Goddess", "Defiled Beast" Thales had called her.

That was not the Sothis Edelgard had met.

Rhea had not locked her in the dark.

Rhea had not locked her siblings in the dark.

She was Emperor. Within the next few years Claude and Dimitri would be the most powerful men in their countries. Rhea was the head of the Church. In this room were the four most influential people in Fódlan. The Leaders of Humanity.

A swift and decisive war had been her plan. Eliminate the Church. Conquer the rest of Fódlan then turn all their strength against Those Who Slither in the Dark –Agartha, as Sothis had called them.

But she needed the Agarthans to take on the Church –and how easy would it be for Thales to prolong the war? To give the Kingdom and the Alliance enough time for them all to wear each other down. To give them supplies, to position someone in Leicester as he had positioned Cornelia in Faerghus?

How quickly would Thales have turned against her, having weakened the people who walked in the light?

That had been the plan. It had always ended with her against Thales.

Rhea had not locked her in the dark.

Rhea was already broken.

If…

If she reached out her hand, would Claude and Dimitri join her? Could she turn all of Fódlan against Agartha without the war?

They had been gifted a revelation. They could abolish the worship of Crests, make right their twisted history _with the blessing of the Goddess_.

If she reached out her hand… would they take it? Would they understand what she sought to achieve? Could she have them as allies and not opponents? Could she take that risk, expose so much of herself, and still bring herself to fight them if it came to it? _Could_ she alter the plan at this moment? _Should_ she allow the Church to persist for as long as it took to stop Thales?

No.

No, the Church of Seiros could not persist.

Yet… did her path need to be paved in crimson? Would reformation work in place of destruction?

The last note of the Goddess's song faded.

The silence that followed was still and calm.

Flayn was lovely. Seteth was a good man. Dimitri was from _before_. Children were already suffering. Claude could see the flaws. Thales would burn Fódlan to ash. The Goddess bid her walk her own path.

The girl who had survived the dark wished for allies.

Edelgard reached.

~o~*~o~

"Archbishop Rhea." Edelgard's voice broke the stillness. Cool, crisp syllables puncturing the air around them "The enemies who have recently attacked the Monastery have infiltrated several noble families of the Empire. I intend to seek them out and destroy them. The Goddess called them Agartha; what do you know of them?" She demanded, striding forward.

Rhea shivered on the ground and Dimitri paced forwards to block her path "El-"

"And you!" she continued whirling to face him. "You said that we must oppose them wherever they may strike, be that Empire, Kingdom or Alliance. Do you stand by those words?"

"Of course." Dimitri answered, back straight, eyebrows drawn into a frown, "But now is clearly not the time to be demanding questions of Lady Rhea."

"If not now, when?"

"I hate to say it, but I'm with the Princess on this one." Claude added his opinion "A _little_ knowledge is a dangerous thing, or so they say, and we know little enough. I think it's past time for some openness."

Dimitri hesitated, and Edelgard scowled, tossing her hair back over her shoulder "I have reason to believe they were involved in, if not primarily responsible for, the Tragedy of Duscur."

The Prince came alert at the mention of Duscur "And how would you know this? How highly have they _infiltrated_ into Adrestia?"

Edelgard paused "I… entertained an offer from them. However, it has become clear to me that any dealings with them will only result in further tragedy. They must be fought. And to have the strength to do so we must work as one. At least two of the most influential families in the Empire are under their sway, and I am aware of one agent of theirs in the Kingdom. It seems likely that they will have infiltrated the Alliance as well. We cannot hold off their Demonic Beasts _and_ internal dissension without aiding each other."

Even as she admitted weakness, Edelgard tipped her chin higher, lilac eyes boring directly into Dimitri's and Claude's in turn. Silence fell around them once more.

"I'm in." Byleth spoke from her position by the throne and startled the lords from their three-way face off. "I intended to hunt them anyway. If you will guide us to them, Jeralt's Mercenaries shall be your blade."

Edelgard flushed, surprised but quickly recovered "You have questions of your own to answer."

Byleth swept the remains of her tears from her cheeks then folded her arms and shrugged, her expression one of comfortable neutrality. "True. But I'd like to hear what Rhea has to say first."

Dimitri at last nodded once and moved aside, allowing Edelgard and Claude to step closer to the Archbishop. Rhea drew herself up so she was at least kneeling and not collapsed to the floor, though her head remained bowed. "There is a group of people who have slithered in the darkness and threatened the peace of Fódlan since ancient times… Long before the founding of the Empire, in times of old, the people of this land turned their blades against the Goddess… The land was ravaged in the war that followed… some of those who lost retreated into the dark, and later their descendants used Nemesis to enact their revenge… he was stopped, but not before…"

"… Not before he attacked you, _you_ , at Zanado." Claude concluded and Rhea looked away.

"He killed my brethren, the Children of the Goddess. And those who slither, the Agarthans, took their corpses and made weapons of them. The Relics, the Crest Stones –all of it fuelled by the same dark blood magic they had once turned upon the Goddess."

"But they do not consider their revenge complete." Edelgard added. "They still oppose you, and whatever remains of the Goddess… and ultimately, all of the people who walk the land."

"So it seems." Rhea agreed. "The Goddess, _my mother,_ _"_ she gasped "they can no longer reach. But they would drive the remains of the world to ruin in their twisted pursuits."

"And so we stop them." Dimitri said then turned to Edelgard "You spoke of Duscur. What do you know? And of an agent in the Kingdom?"

"Lady Cornelia is no longer the same woman who earned her position in your court. As for Duscur; only that they were certainly involved, and regret that the tragedy was 'visible'. At the time they were engaged in… _other pursuits_ in Enbarr as well, or I might tell you more." She turned to Claude "Were I you, I would question what Solon was doing in the time between Tomas leaving the Monastery and his return."

"Killing my cousins I presume." Claude answered lightly, hands laced behind his head. "Arranging all sorts of accidents and misadventure. Amongst other nefarious deeds no doubt. Then waiting for my Uncle to die and destabilising the whole Alliance with House Riegan's collapse. Except, I turned up, and stayed under Lady Judith's protection… but it wouldn't take any great leap to deduce my Grandfather would want to send me here."

"And when he arrived in advance he discovered Flayn. The half-human, the next step in their twisted blood magic." Edelgard concluded. "And you lost priority."

"Or he thought he could turn me." Claude murmured, almost to himself, as he looked back over his interactions with the librarian.

"Possible. They attempted it with me."

"How do we fight them?" Dimitri added "If they keep to the shadows, then we cannot simply march an army upon them."

"Subterfuge, rumours, seeking out any hint of their base; they must have one." Claude answered "First we clean our houses and then…"

"And then we hunt." Edelgard concluded. "It may be a long road."

"But one worth walking." Dimitri added "Faerghus will stand with you."

"And the Alliance. I'll see to it."

"Thank you." Edelgard breathed closing her eyes for a moment before at last she turned to Rhea. The Archbishop rose slowly to her feet and Dimitri stepped forward to assist her to stand.

"The Church of Seiros will join this cause." Rhea swore, and when their eyes turned to her, Byleth nodded her affirmation once more.

"Then we are all agreed." Edelgard said, smiling, as though a great weight had been lifted from her. "You should be aware, during my trip home this moon I ascended to the Imperial Throne and became Emperor of Adrestia. All of her might is at my command"

"You played that one close to the vest, your Imperialness. Though all else considered I can't say I have the energy left to be surprised by it."

"There is much left to discuss, though perhaps it would be best if we adjourn for the moment and resume somewhere more comfortable." Dimitri proposed, still supporting Rhea on his arm. There was a round of assent and they moved back to the the stairs.

Byleth took two steps towards them and collapsed in a dead faint.

~o~*~o~

She came to briefly, held in Claude's arms as Edelgard pushed open the door to the infirmary. Dimitri and Rhea were not in her line of vision as Claude carried her across the room.

"I spend too much time in this bed." she murmured as he set her down, the soft puff of his quiet laugh across her hair the only answer, as she sank into unconsciousness once more.

~o~*~o~

There was an argument going on above her head as she began to wake again. Edelgard's voice speaking in clipped tones;

"-is compiling a work of all we could ever wish to know of Nabataea, Byleth agreed she has questions to answer, Dimitri is incapable of hiding anything, the only hold out is you."

"I want you to know, I'm choosing to take that as a compliment." Dimitri responded.

"A man needs to keep _some_ secrets; you know? Besides, knowing the _exact_ location of my hometown isn't something that's going to help us in this fight." Claude answered dismissively.

"That may be so. But your refusal to elaborate does not instill trust in those whom would be your allies."

"You can trust Claude." Byleth said, pushing herself upright "He's reliable."

Dimitri stepped forward to hand Byleth a glass of water and encourage her towards the stew that had been left covered for whenever she awoke. With her attention directed that way she missed the bright flush that encompassed the marksman's face. Edelgard didn't, and raised an amused eyebrow at him as he turned away for a moment. He caught her look once he'd composed himself and narrowed his eyes at her, but her expression only turned triumphant.

"Well. I'm willing to trust _your_ word on the matter." the Emperor stated, directing her attention to the mercenary. "How are you feeling?"

Byleth considered for a moment. "Odd. Hollow, lightheaded… as though I've overexerted everything. It doesn't hurt, I'm just… sapped of strength."

"Well, you did have a divine being living inside of you. Perhaps it is not entirely unexpected that you would feel some effects after…" Dimitri trailed off

Byleth smiled sadly "Perhaps not."

There was a hesitation in the room, a palpable tension as Byleth worked through the stew, the three lords looking on. Form her sense of time she gathered it was getting on towards evening –but it had still been early when they left the Holy Tomb –surely they had not merely been waiting for her all day?

She set the bowl aside half-finished. "What have I missed?"

"Not a great deal. Edelgard and I have discussed how we might move against the known infiltrators, and Seteth has… Seteth has had _words_ with Lady Rhea."

"By that, his Princeliness means Seteth turned that disapproving stare of his on the Archbishop for so long that even I felt sorry for her. He's been keeping the faithful calm, letting the people know that the revelation occurred and the leaders of the church will have a proclamation soon. Keeping everyone off our backs. It's nice for him to be getting us _out_ of trouble for once, I think that must be for your benefit, Milady Mercenary."

"Mostly, we've been awaiting you. I do not intend to move precipitously, before I understand all that occurred today. A large portion of that story belongs to you. I appreciate you are unwell, but we must make a start as soon as possible." Edelgard concluded with authority.

Byleth took a breath and weighed how tired she felt against the need to press on "I'll answer _one_ question tonight." She agreed after a moment.

"So what's this about you throwing yourself in front of an axe?" Claude asked immediately

" _Really_!?" Edelgard exclaimed

"Hey, it seemed pretty important to the Goddess. She brought it up at least three times."

Dimitri sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose "Peace, Edelgard. We can ask the… _difficult_ questions tomorrow once we've all had some time to reflect."

"Actually… that is one of the difficult questions." Byleth said, letting her head thump back against the headboard.

The house leaders shared a glance. Completely shameless, Claude plunked himself down in the middle of the bed by her feet, legs crossed, elbows on knees, chin cupped by his hands –like a child eagerly awaiting a story. Edelgard and Dimitri took up much more respectable perches at the edge of the bed and Byleth sighed in resignation.

"Remire village, when we first met… I… I lived through the end of that battle twice." She spoke slowly choosing her words with care, but not looking at any of them, instead smoothing down the edge of the blanket across her lap "The first time, when the leader charged Edelgard… I did not disarm him. I hadn't been in the right position, I suppose, instead I took the blow myself." She admitted glancing up to the Emperor briefly then away again. "Sothis was… _somewhat_ offended, that I'd risk my -our- life, for just one girl we'd never met before. She… she wound time back, just a moment, so knowing what was to happen, I could move earlier. After that, she never let it drop. Every time I seriously endangered myself she'd lecture and chastise me… She was _really_ upset with me after the Death Knight…" She trailed off and looked up with a rueful smile and a shrug of one shoulder.

"Huh." Dimitri managed at last. Claude's eyebrows had shot up to his hairline and were slowly lowering again in contemplation. Edelgard meanwhile, was staring intently at her, arms folded, numerous thoughts running behind her eyes

"If she, you, had that sort of power at your disposal, why _not_ use it when the Death Knight attacked you? All that time in the infirmary can't have been the best outcome."

"She had given me control over it by that time, but I hadn't yet used it, it didn't occur to me, and I was unconscious too quickly. Sothis could do nothing while I was out."

"And Jeralt?"

The question sounded more like an accusation, and Dimitri hissed a warning " _Edelgard!_ " while Claude's hand found one of Byleth's ankles through the blanket for a supportive squeeze, but the Emperor was unrelenting, gaze unwavering.

"I ran us dry trying to save my father." Byleth said, aware of the slow build of tears in her eyes, though she forced her voice to stay steady. "Whatever I did, however quickly I moved, that dark mage was always able to intercept and I could never find him before he did… I redid that moment again and again, but no matter what I attempted… it never changed the end." Her eyes were glazed, glassy, probably viewing the moment Jeralt fell even as she spoke of it. The tears had overfilled her eyes and were spilling silently down her cheeks "Eventually, we lacked the strength to try anymore. Moving time, even just a handful of seconds, is… difficult. Even with the power of a Goddess"

A heavy silence blanketed them, Edelgard at last looking away in something perhaps approaching remorse. Dimitri heaved a sigh and stood, holding a hand out to assist her to stand

"We'll take our leave. I pray you feel better in the morning, Byleth."

She bid them goodnight, and Claude swung his legs across to the side, letting the royal duo exit ahead of him. He paused for a moment, glancing back at her over his shoulder "I did mean… I was trying to keep it light, My Friend."

"I know" she assured him. He reached back to offer another brief squeeze before standing and following after the others. Byleth was left to snuggle down and contemplate that space in her soul where Sothis had been, and the strange new rhythms of her heart.

~o~*~o~

Sanderson returned the next day, storming into the infirmary in a fury before even Manuela had arrived.

"The ' _guest of honour at a boring ceremony_ _'_! A boring ceremony! Sermons you let me think! Not encounters with the Goddess!"

"Good morning Sanderson." Byleth replied evenly, sitting up and stretching out.

"A revelation! Words from the Lady herself!" He continued, throwing a letter down into her lap. Byleth picked it up and opened the seal "And you, the Hero deemed worthy to speak with her! And where am I during this grand happening? The event of the century? At your side to witness it? No! Out in the wilds of Gloucester battling off wolves on a simple errand as if I was still green!"

"Is everyone alright?" Byleth asked, looking up from the letter.

"Yes of course we are!"

"You've done good work."

"Yes of course I have!"

He turned on his heel with a toss of his head and flounced from the room.

"Thank you Sanders!" She called after him. A moment later he poked his head back in round the door.

"…and you're alright, Boss?"

"Yes" Byleth answered with a smile. "I'll be up in a moment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, Sanderson. 😂
> 
> The eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed I've set an end point for Mercenary of 25 chapters, and you may be thinking "Maddy02, that is _not _enough time."__
> 
> _  
> _And you'd be right. For reasons I'll go into closer to the time, I'm splitting Merc into two parts, I'm just letting y'all know now so you don't panic. I have a plan.__  
> 


	23. She; The Goddess Above

Lone Moon

Hubert had moved with frightening speed. By noon two days after the ceremony Arundel could no longer show his face in the Empire, under penalty of death, for treason against the Emperor. All of his lands were to be annexed under House Vestra and Lord Vestra had unexpectedly passed away overnight.

_Natural causes_ , of course.

Edelgard was already anticipating an outcry. House Vestra maintained their power _without_ land by virtue of their proximity to the Emperor and position as head of the Imperial Household. A Vestra with land, a _Hubert von Vestra_ with land, with funds of his own, was an intimidating prospect. And even though she knew all of those funds would be going to the war against Agartha she was not yet in a position to announce it.

It did not help matters that she had already taken Prime Minister Aegir into custody for his role in… the events of Enbarr, as soon as she'd become Emperor. She would need to have his legitimate heir, Ferdinand, take his place quickly. It was possible, Edelgard considered, that Ferdinand _could_ hold Hrym as well. It would be a gesture on her part, assurance that she was not ascending the Imperial Throne in blood and turmoil to unseat _every_ noble house. That she was not punishing the whole Aegir house for the failure of their Lord. That she was standing by her principle of allowing individuals to prove themselves.

Though it would be something of a poisoned chalice for Ferdinand. The people of Hrym were not likely to take well to _another_ Aegir overseeing them, unless Ferdinand rapidly softened his Father's policies.

But, he was the kind of person who _would_ consider the needs of those in his charge. He would have to return to the Empire with her immediately to be established, and she would lend him what troops she could if his household knights weren't up to the task of cementing his leadership.

If she could.

Thales would retaliate. They needed to determine when and where the strike would fall. The ward over Garreg Mach was still in place –would he send ground forces to the monastery, or would he use his dark arts to obliterate Enbarr and reduce it to the like of Ailell?

Three quarters, she decided. Three quarters of the advance troops she'd disguised in the area around Garreg Mach would return to the Empire. A portion of those to Aegir if needed, but the majority to Arundel, in case Thales was still lurking there, and to give Hubert some additional troops to work with, as it was very likely that Arundel's forces were at least _compromised_ , if not actually wholly Agarthan. The rest of what they needed to cleanse the lands she would march up from Enbarr herself. It was too early yet to rely on aid from the Kingdom or Alliance. Claude and Dimitri's words were assuring, but she would have to draft up some sort of accord to bind them.

Yes, the accords would bind Dimitri and Claude to defend the Empire, and in turn bind her to defend the Kingdom and Alliance. Yet Garreg Mach was it's own entity belonging to none but the Church. The wording had better be "and all the peoples of Fódlan" she decided.

But that was not her priority at the moment. She could begin drafting it on her way to the Empire. First; Ferdinand.

~o~*~o~

Hubert had moved with frightening speed. Dimitri was concerned his Uncle Rufus would not receive his carefully worded missive and move against Cornelia before she received her own warning. In fact, even if the missive arrived in enough time, it was likely he wouldn't move against her at all; his Uncle's… _predilections_ had always tended towards women of similar figure to the court mage.

Still… his birthday had now passed. As soon as the year changed he would at last be eligible to take the throne. Rodrigue could be relied upon to initiate the proceedings… if they rushed he could perhaps be crowned within half a year.

If his Uncle took Cornelia into custody then so much the better. If he did not… unless she fled it would be a very tense game of cat-and-mouse until the crown was on his head.

And he was not sure whether he would be the cat or the mouse.

He could begin preparing for that but, in the meanwhile the Goddess had set him a task and, as he watched Dedue carefully navigating the dining hall to keep all of his great form out of Ingrid's view in a manner that suggested he was very used to the motion, Dimitri was at last able to recognise the necessity of it…

…may his fallen comrades, his father, step-mother, Glenn, his knights and the murdered people of Duscur forgive him, but he must start to prioritise the living over the dead.

Healing over revenge.

Somehow he had to bring himself to set the burden down and let them go into Sothis's care.

~o~*~o~

The Golden Deer had taken the news surprisingly well for such an odd collection of people. Then again, they'd faced that terrible magic in the Sealed Forest; they wouldn't be surprised by the idea of a secret group of people who wished them all wiped off the face of Fódlan.

"I trust everyone here to stand against this threat." Claude stated, very clearly "But you saw how Solon and Kronya hid amongst us. Next moon, after we graduate, you'll be returning to your territories; you know your households, your villages better than anyone else could. I need you to be on guard and report anything that seems suspicious. Frankly, we don't know what sort of a hold they have in the Alliance, we need more information, I need _you_ to defend Leicester." Lorenz puffed up at that, and Raphael nodded firmly. Hilda was frowning; but at least she wasn't complaining. Marianne and Ignatz seemed concerned, likely he'd have to speak with them individually, but on the other hand there was a sort of zealous fire behind Leonie's eyes, and Lysithea…

Lysithea was _too_ quiet.

"These Agarthans" she began softly, looking down. And it was so jarring, such a departure from her usual strident tone and forceful stare that the whole room seemed to suddenly shift to focus on her "They're the ones we fought in the forest… in the dark masks?"

"Yes…?" Claude agreed cautiously. Lysithea continued to look down, breathing deeply. Claude's eyes cut to Hilda and back, twitching his head slightly to indicate the girl and, blessedly, Hilda didn't even pretend to not understand him and slid into the seat next to her immediately, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Lysithea took another breath and lifted her head. She raised one palm and, without any incantation at all, summoned a spell to her hand to display the Crest of Gloucester. "Just after the Insurrection of the Seven, when the Empire was seeking reparations, they, the mages in dark masks, were in Ordelia. They… they performed experiments on all the children of my house." She said and lifted her other palm, summoning another spell, this one showing the Crest of Charon "I was the only survivor."

Well…

Well…

Damn.

~o~*~o~

In Enbarr the preparations had been made for Edelgard's announcement. Half the troops she intended had already been marched to Arundel, the rest would follow on the wings of her proclamation; the start of what would likely be a war of attrition with Agartha.

That, at least, was better than the alternative; Thales raining utter destruction upon them. Hubert was already at work devising some means of detecting their magic, and now that they could be open about it, maybe she could bring in the best minds from the other nations to the task as well? Lysithea von Ordelia for a start, Professor Hanneman and perhaps Annette Dominic? And Lindhart, if she could convince him it would be an interesting study.

She strode confidently forward to her mark at the top of the steps, the banner of the Empire emblazoned on the wall behind her as she made her address to the country. She began with the announcement of her Father's abdication, and then proceeded on to the main purpose of the speech; her declaration.

"The recent attacks in Remire and Garreg Mach have unveiled an enemy long kept hidden. They have slithered in the dark since ages past, twisting the Church of Seiros to their purpose by misusing the creed and falsifying the will of the Goddess. They have caused instability in order to drive a wedge between the people of Fódlan. They whispered lies into the ears of leaders to divide Kingdom from Empire, Alliance from Kingdom, Empire from Church so that we would bicker amongst ourselves and doubt those who should be our closest allies. The have used vile magics to torture our children and defile our bodies, twisting people into abominations. And so, I have decided… By order of the Adrestian Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg, the Empire hereby declares war on the shadowed nation of Agartha."

As easily as that, it was done. They were at war. Now she need only finish the Accords and all of Fódlan would stand united.

~o~*~o~

Seteth looked around askance as he stepped foot into the Bishop's Regret. The Bishop's Regret returned the favour, clearly recognising that this was not one of their own. He felt every eye in the room on him as he trod lightly into the hall -trying not to wince at the slight pull when he lifted each foot of the ground; did they not clean the floors? Were spills that prevalent?

Mercifully, he located Byleth Eisner quickly. Unmercifully she was tucked away in a corner at the back of the room, enjoying her respite after a long week of questioning on her connection to the Goddess -and here he came to end it. He could already feel his temple throbbing as he finally reached her, the weight of his duty and the environment closing in on him. She gave a nod to the mercenaries sitting opposite her and they slid out of the booth to a table nearby, apparently unconcerned by the flooring. He took up the abandoned seat and drew a breath to steel himself.

"Saint Byleth" he began, but Byleth cut him off immediately

"No. I told Rhea I was no Oracle. I will not be your Saint either."

"We need to give you _some_ title, Miss Eisner." he placated "Word of the Revelation _will_ spread; it is the spark of a war. If you do not choose a title, the people will make one of their own. Others may have _heard_ Her, but to them _you_ are the one who summoned the Goddess."

Byleth frowned, but tipped her head in acknowledgement "Later then. You've not come out here to debate what the people call me."

Seteth hesitated "In a way I have. Edelgard, the Emperor, has made her announcement, I have a copy of the speech if you wish to read it. The Empire is now at war, and the Kingdom and Alliance will soon follow. As will the Church. You, apparently, announced your intention to fight, yet you have no allegiance."

"Are you come to re-hire me? Have me work for the church again as a battalion leader?"

"No, as it's Warmaster."

Byleth stopped. For a moment she did not so much as blink, just regarding him neutrally. Seteth found it in himself to be mildly pleased that he had been able to surprise her.

"But not only for the Church. This… _coalition_ between countries, between factions, will require a degree of negotiation, of diplomacy. I have my biases, so do the others. You are a notably neutral force. And, young as you are, you have proven experience. This war will need you to act as more than just a sharp blade."

Byleth pushed the mug she'd been nursing aside and leaned both arms on the table. "You want _me_ mediate between the Empire, the Kingdom, the Alliance _and_ the Church. To… to command armies?"

"That is the short of it. We, the coalition, must have _someone_ in that position. Can you think of any better candidate for the role? Hero of the Revelation? Chosen of the Goddess? Whether you accept a Sainthood or not, you were in direct contact with the Goddess for many moons. The Church will heed you and the faithful throughout the land will support you. You have also worked alongside the most prominent families in the three nations, _they_ will heed you. I daresay if you do not take up this role you will shortly have four factions chasing you for a decidedly _less_ neutral position. You might benefit in the short term, but I expect you may find certain doors closed to you in the long run."

"And you… seek me for the coalition, not the Church?"

"Did I not make that clear? I despise repeating myself, but in this case I suppose clarity is warranted. I would have you take up a position within the leadership of this war effort, as a neutral party with no ties of fealty to any country, nor the Church." Seteth hesitated a moment but then continued "In any case, I do not foresee the Church of Seiros surviving much longer. Not in it's present form. But that is perhaps… as it should be. We must all learn to adapt to the times, difficult as that may be to some."

Quiet fell between them for a moment, the background noises of low voices and mugs sloshing and clanking providing a very humble backdrop for such a proposition as this, as Byleth turned it over in her head.

" _If_ I agreed to this… there must be conditions."

"Of course." Seteth agreed, leaning back, posture lightening. "And the rest of the leaders must agree to the proposition as well, although I expect they will be amenable."

" _What_ _'d I tell you, Kid?_ _Connections_ _._ _"_ Her Father's voice came back to her and she wondered idly if she had doomed herself to this fate the moment she had ticked that box assigning Jeralt's Mercenaries to the Academy.

"You certainly can't call me a _Saint_ if I'm to be neutral." Seteth nodded, the very beginnings of a smile twitching about his lips

"I suppose that is true. Will it be General Eisner, then?" Byleth's eyes narrowed once more

" _If_ we can agree on terms."

"Of course."

~o~*~o~

A war had just been declared. So, naturally, Garreg Mach was having a competition.

To be fair, this was the same competition that had been running the whole year; that between the three houses. As graduation approached classes gave way in favour of exhibition, students having the chance to show off their skills to the Knights and whatever Nobles were visiting the monastery -or indeed their own year-mates.

Generally the house leaders would have been expected to participate. This year, their time was spent in the Cardinal's Room, learning all they could from Seteth and Edelgard, once she'd returned from Enbarr in the middle of the second week. Then they had to argue about Edelgard's accords, what the exact wording was, who was required to provide what, who was even eligible to sign (The Crown Prince was, House Riegan's heir was not, and so a rider was swiftly dispatched to Derdriu with a draft of the agreements to ask Duke Oswald for any of roundtable's concerns and to formally grant Claude the privilege to sign the official version).

By the third day of these meetings, Byleth had firmed up her conditions and made her decision. She arrived to the room with Seteth to find the three lords clustered around one end of the long tables, arguing over one point or other and leaning over the documents to point at one phrase in particular.

"Miss Byleth" Dimitri greeted, less involved in this particular argument than his two companions. "Welcome. I confess we'd be glad for your input on this matter, perhaps you may help us resolve it."

Seteth shot her a knowing look and she acceded the point with a tip of her head. She approached their end of the table and Claude drew out a chair for her.

She paused and blinked at it; no-one else was sitting. Claude suddenly understood how a deer felt when it found itself in a hunter's sights as he very abruptly realised he had no excuse for what he'd just done.

With a laugh that he just barely disguised as clearing his throat, Dimitri drew back a chair for Edelgard and they all took their places.

"Before I offer any advice, Seteth has a proposition."

~o~*~o~

The three young Lords of Fódlan all agreed, for varying reasons, to Byleth's inclusion on the war council, and the mercenary very shortly found herself inundated with new information as they brought her up to speed on all they had put together so far. The replacement of Lady Cornelia and Lord Arundel, the search for Crest Stones to force the Demonic transformations, the blood magic, the attempt to break the ward on Garreg Mach using a Cardinal and the possibility of a magic so strong as to turn the earth into a burning hell-scape like Ailell, the Valley of Torment. Once she had a reasonable grasp on all that they moved swiftly on to their most recent actions; the march on Arundel, the attempt to capture Cornelia and discern any trace of the Agarthans in Leicester.

"They were in Ordelia" Claude informed them "Shortly after the insurrection of the Seven. Right when no-one could intervene. The result of which is that Lysithea has two Crests and white hair, rather like yours, your Majesticness."

"Two Crests?" Seteth questioned at the same moment Dimitri turned to Edelgard and said "Your hair was not always white."

Edelgard glowered at Claude who shot her a charming smile in response. The Emperor sighed; "If the timing is accurate then that was perhaps a couple of years before the Prime Minister allowed them in to Enbarr. I also bear a second Crest through their… experiments. The Hresvelg family have always borne the Crest of Seiros, the one they forced upon me was the Crest of Flames" She lifted her hand and with a murmured word summoned a spell to show it to them.

Immediately Byleth gasped and placed a hand over her heart "That is-" she began, wincing "That is a _very_ strange sensation."

Edelgard dismissed the spell and Byleth relaxed. Seteth's eyes darted between them

"The Crest of Flames was the Goddess's own. Nobody else could posses it until Nemesis broke in to the Holy Tomb and took her blood. How were they able to get a sample of it?"

"Perhaps we should ask Rhea, or Saint Seiros, what she did with Nemesis's body when she finished him off" Claude suggested and it was Seteth's turn to sigh.

" _Lady_ Rhea will answer all of your questions just as soon as she is able to, but she had been avoiding this history for… too long. You must allow her space to recover."

Claude rolled his eyes and Edelgard frowned, Dimitri stepped forwards once more as peacemaker "That being so, there is little more we can accomplish here at the present moment until our messengers return" he said, tilting his head to another table where a map had been spread out and weighted down, wooden figures painted in red marking positions in Arundel and Hrym. Yellow and blue counterparts positioned just off the edge along the borders of their respective countries and several white pieces clustered around Garreg Mach. "It might be best if Byleth, and Edelgard, allow Professor Hanneman to examine them. Any advance we can make towards understanding their magic may be a step towards undoing the worst of it."

Byleth and Edelgard exchanged a look. The mercenary lifted one shoulder and Edelgard nodded, making to stand "Very well. It is as you say, _all_ knowledge is useful to us at present. I'll submit to Hanneman's examination. Let us reconvene again tomorrow."

They began to leave the room, but Dimitri held Claude back for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. Claude eyed it askance before turning an arch look on him, but the Prince paid it no heed, clearly fighting back a grin.

"You know, Claude, the trick is to make the lady court _you_."

~o~*~o~

"Fascinating!" Hanneman exclaimed as he eyed the results of Byleth's latest reading "It is as though your Crest has faded. I can see the shape of it, but it is no longer functional, and yet, when Miss Edelgard, ah, my apologies, when Her Majesty activates hers it becomes more defined. Not enough to operate, but more firmly present."

"Miss Edelgard is fine, Professor" Edelgard offered absently, leaning over the contraption to observe. "Does this mean it is possible to remove a Crest entirely?"

"Why I hardly know!" The Professor said, but he was clearly excited at the prospect "Miss Byleth's acquisition of her Crest is so unique in the first instance, but the mere possibility of _gaining_ a Crest that was not inherited naturally does lend to the supposition that it may be possible to remove one. But, could one remove a naturally occurring Crest? What methods were needed to induce a second Crest? Why does Miss Byleth's Crest react to yours? Is it a product of the Crest of Flames or of Miss Byleth's individual situation? I really need further time and resources to study this phenomena before I can make any more definitive predictions; but presently it seems everything is possible beyond the bounds of Crestology as I know it! And I know it very well!"

"Well, fortunately for your study it seems I'll be based in Garreg Mach for the foreseeable future." Byleth added.

"Wonderful news! Now, if you would be so kind; a few drops of blood on that plate just there -yes that one- and I shall be able to delve more thoroughly into your unique situation. Really, a Crest Stone _inside_ of you! It should not have been possible!"

"No it shouldn't…" Edelgard mused "Crest Stones and shards have been used by the Agarthans to reliably force a Demonic transformation in those without Crests, without the blood to bear them. How did you survive so long without transforming yourself?"

"Perhaps I didn't?" Byleth questioned "I was dead, stillborn, I'm told, when it was inserted and my heart did not beat thereafter. Or Rhea's method was different? You would have to ask her."

"Oh I shall!" Hanneman promised "You may be certain, whatever it takes I shall get to the bottom of all this!"

~o~*~o~

That night, in her room above the Bishop's Regret, surrounded by her men on all sides, Byleth slept. Her heart rate slowed and, in the long space between one breath and the next, she fell into a dream. A hazy, fog-like veil lingered before her superimposed with the Crest of Flames. As she swept it aside she saw the Goddess, speaking with vague figures she could not make out. Sothis noticed her and her radiant form was shortly replaced by the childlike appearance Byleth was more familiar with.

"Well, this will not do at all!" Sothis declared turning from the figures she had been addressing and drifting towards Byleth "How uncouth, to interrupt my arbitration! Even you should not disrupt the veil, my dear Exception. But, at least I am aware of it now, and may take action on this side." She tilted her head, regarding the mercenary closely. Byleth wished to speak but something held her voice and Sothis continued, eyes smiling "I do have one more favour to grant, though you shall not remember it... Now then, drift along the river, until the flow of time brings us together once more."

Sothis waved her hand and the foggy veil rushed between them, much thicker than before, obscuring her completely. Byleth heard a familiar voice call "Kid", felt a comforting, grizzled hand on her shoulder and allowed herself to be pulled into other dreams.

When she woke she remembered none of it. Not Sothis, nor any that came after.

Yet, lingering in her senses was the scent of soap, ale, mail polish, and… something floral.


	24. I; The Mercenary, Below

Lone Moon

Hubert had moved with frightening speed. The Agarthan forces at Arundel had been overrun swiftly and without mercy or hesitation. There had also been far fewer of them than their best-case predictions had anticipated.

"They'd already left." Claude concluded, removing a black marker from the map "Whatever their next move is going to be, the majority of them have moved out in anticipation."

"Here or Enbarr?" Edelgard mused "Their own base? A location in the Kingdom or the Alliance we don't know about? Are they preparing an attack or retreating? Biding their time? It galls me to have to be so… _reactionary_."

"Patience." Byleth advised "Perhaps Hubert will have more for us in person when he returns. Is there news from Ferdinand?"

"He anticipates being able to return for graduation. Hrym is not _happy_ , there is much to be done in the region, but his appointment has allayed what other opposing voices there were in the Empire."

" _Reacting_ may be all we can do for the present time. We need an inside edge if possible. At the very least we must begin training scouts and infiltrators." Dimitri added

"Shamir is already on the task" Seteth began, but Byleth's attention was drawn aside as Yuri appeared in the doorway and made a quick birdlike gesture with his head to beckon her over. Byleth left the table quietly as Seteth continued to apprise the others and approached him, concerned what would have drawn him above.

"Our friends have started slithering their way through Abyss once more. Many of them in dark masks. Normally I'd take care of it myself, but with the Emperor's little announcement the other day, perhaps she'd like to offer her aid?"

"How many?" Byleth asked plainly, brows furrowing

"Well, perhaps more than I _could_ deal with myself" Yuri admitted. "It seems likely they may be staging an attack on the monastery. A preemptive strike would be in order, I can guide you to them; Abyss is a labyrinth even for those of us who know it well, but my men are tracking them. Congratulations on your appointment, by the way, General Demon, or is it the Ashen Saint now?"

"Please stop drinking with Sanderson." Byleth requested flatly and strode back over to the table, picking up the marker Claude had placed aside and setting it down firmly on Garreg Mach at the centre of the map. "They're moving through Abyss."

"Then we can head them off, immediately." Dimitri said, standing tall.

"Let us hope they are not attempting to break the ward again." Edelgard added, frowning. "I do not know Abyss at all. What conditions do we anticipate?"

"Tunnels and passageways. Some caverns. Many traps." Byleth summarised "I don't know of any entrances we could reasonably get calvary through, but we do have a guide." She added tipping her head back to where Yuri lingered in the doorway.

"What are the chances they'll attack above as well, that this is a distraction?" Claude asked.

"Low." Edelgard responded "Guerrilla warfare and sabotage would be more in keeping with their methods. Perhaps they might send some Demonic Beasts to divert our troops, but a full assault on such a defensible location as Garreg Mach is unlikely in this timescale -not without the Empire backing them. They'll need longer to build that sort of force."

"Then consider this your last mission as House Leaders." Seteth announced. "Leave the skies and the Monastery to me. Gather those of your Houses you can quickly find and head below to crush this threat before it spreads."

"My troop is still in town, if you can spare a messenger, send for Sanderson to reinforce you." Byleth suggested, and followed on the heels of the House Leaders, Yuri pacing beside her. "Fifteen minutes," she called to them "Find who you can and gather in the Entrance Hall. I'll deal with the Guildmaster."

~o~*~o~

The trouble with being a recluse, Bernadetta realised, was that everyone always knew exactly where to find you. She stood at the back of the assembled group, near the water-wall as the Ashen Demon assigned troops and commands.

The Ashen Demon had been a lot less scary sitting in the sunshine with a child in her lap, before she'd been able to summon the Goddess and put in charge of leading a war.

The House Leaders had gathered those of their class they could most quickly find. Hilda had been pulled away from decorating for the upcoming graduation ceremony and was not happy about it -it had been the one task this year she'd been at all enthusiastic about. Leonie had been with her, holding supplies Bernadetta herself had helped source for the occasion but Claude apparently hadn't found anyone else.

Come to that, aside from Edelgard it was only herself and Petra representing the Eagles, and Bernie seriously regretted not having any other hiding places than her own room.

Dimitri had done the best of the house leaders in terms of gathering forces; the Lions had been on dinner prep this week, so Ashe, Annette, Dedue and Mercedes had been easy to find.

Maybe if she was lucky she could hide behind Dedue? That would probably keep her relatively safe and unnoticed.

Shamir joined them, sent by Seteth, and they began to head out, following the lead of the Ashen Demon and the young man from Abyss.

Bernie took a deep breath and steeled herself as they descended into the darkness, hovering close behind Edelgard.

~o~*~o~

Chanting echoed down the passageway towards them as they advanced towards the Agarthan incursion. One of Yuri's rogues fell in beside him, whispering in his ear before taking off again back towards the more populated areas of Abyss on whatever errand the Savage Mocking bird had sent him. Claude was inconspicuously marking each turn they took with a piece of chalk -for later explorations no doubt- but at the head of their procession, Byleth found she could recall the turns easily enough.

They came around one last turn and were faced with a barricade, blocking off each side of an entrance of some significance and leaving only a narrow way in, perhaps enough for two people abreast. Three figures in the white uniform of Abyss were waiting on the further half of the barricade; two girls looking through gaps in the boards to the room beyond, the third leaning heavily against it, on guard for any unwelcome arrivals.

"About time you got back, Pal" the big guy from the fighting pits hailed Yuri as they approached "it's getting real creepy in there."

Coming upon the nearside, Byleth peered through a gap in the barricade, Claude to her right, Edelgard on her left and Dimitri easing onto his toes behind her to look over the top. The chamber was large -reminding her more of the Cathedral than any other space she could think of; but with many pillars lining it down each side. Further barricades had been hastily erected between them to force a switchback and choke-holds, protecting those at the back of the room from any immediate danger.

And at the back of the room, Solon was marking out a complex magic formula upon the ground.

Byleth did not need to know what it was supposed to do to understand that it was meant to be dangerous

Very dangerous. Likely destructive.

"Is there any other way in?" she asked aloud as she scanned what she _could_ make out.

"There are three doors, one at the back and one on each side there" Yuri pointed out. "The only way there is the turn two passages back; if you keep to the right it wraps around the room, but there's a cave in shortly after the back door so the door on the right side is unusable. If I were them I'd have that passage heavily guarded -it's likely one of the offshoots is where they got in, they certainly didn't use any of the main entrances. Chances are they'll have reinforcements lurking about that way."

"I'll deal with it." Byleth stated, and Yuri startled a little at her uncompromising tone.

"Try and take one alive, if you get the chance" Shamir advised and Byleth nodded.

"Dimitri and Dedue are your front line. Use the barricades to your advantage, but don't be afraid to break them if you need to and beware of foes in hiding around the pillars." Byleth began as she turned to face the assembled troops, then drew up short for a moment looking between them.

The three houses had not worked _together_ before and none of the Professors were present. She glanced between the house leaders, the students and the battalions she'd drummed up from the Guildmaster, weighing and assessing the compositions. At length her eyes met with Dimitri's and stayed. His shoulders drew back proudly in response to her stare and she nodded at him "The right person to the right job. Will you accept?"

Dimitri considered a moment before agreeing. A simple "Yes." passing between them.

"Dimitri has command." Byleth announced "Yuri will lead our allies from Abyss. All of you; stay alive. Leonie with me." Leonie jumped in surprise before falling in behind her, keeping her spear at the ready as they moved off down the passageway Yuri had indicated to circle around.

~o~*~o~

Dimitri gave Byleth a minute to get in to position, as he formed up the Academy troops for their first advance. It was also giving the enemy time to notice them; but they'd long since dug themselves in and shored up their defences, prepared to be discovered.

Still, it would only be polite to announce themselves.

Dimitri raised his hand sharply and Claude commanded their archers to let loose; a volley of arrows raining deadly points over the first barricade. Many thudded uselessly into it, or into the flanking pillars, but there was enough noise from the other side to tell them that the majority had found a mark to soften the enemy up. Dimitri and Dedue crashed into the barrier, breaking it and scattering what remained of the front line while Annette and the two girls from Abyss began picking them off with targeted magic. Edelgard, Hilda and Petra advanced into the space they'd cleared to engage the next wave.

~o~*~o~

Byleth and Leonie advanced at a quick pace, not quite running but no leisurely stroll either. Byleth hadn't said a word and Leonie felt a nervous trepidation building; had she been forgiven? Was this her chance to make amends? Why had Byleth brought her along? Petra or Shamir would surely have been better partners for this sort of sneaking flank. They came to the turn Yuri had mentioned and began advancing along the way; it was paved for the most part, but followed the path of a natural tunnel and so meandered around odd corners and alcoves instead of following a straight line. Good for concealing their advance, less good for knowing what enemies they may be about to come across.

Such as the unfortunate guard they stumbled upon leaving a side room as they rounded a sharp turn. Byleth reacted first, punching him in the solar plexus and ducking to allow Leonie a clear swing with the heft of her lance, knocking him out. With his belt and a scrap of fabric torn off his shirt, Byleth gagged and hogtied him before removing his weapons and dragging him back into the room as Leonie guarded the passage. The Agarthans had evidently been using it for supplies; there were crates of arcane crystals and other miscellaneous items Byleth couldn't identify piled up inside. She swiped a few vulneraries, tossing one across to Leonie to keep before making her way back to the passage. Once they were out she pulled the door closed and broke off the handle in a sharp move.

"There's one for Shamir. Don't worry about holding back from here on." She instructed and Leonie nodded her understanding, still not quite daring to trust what ever this opportunity was.

~o~*~o~

The second barricade fell under her axe, but Hilda was immediately beset by an assassin charging at her from the other side. She struggled to pull her weapon clear from the wreckage into any guard position as the deadly tip of his sword came towards her.

"Easy there little Lady." A broad figure announced, fist crashing down into her opponent's skull a mere moment before she'd have been skewered.

"Is that you, Balthie?" Hilda questioned, recognition dawning.

"Shit, Hilda? You're all grown up! Oh, shit, don't tell Holst I said 'shit' in front of you! Three times! Fuck."

The tall man's face rapidly paled and Hilda stepped past him to counter a second assassin's sword with a rising sweep of her axe that cleaved the blade and left the swordsman open for Bernadetta to send an arrow through his neck.

"Don't worry! Your secret is safe with me!" she chirruped as Yuri slid between them to cut the purse from a grappler's belt before slitting his throat and ducking back behind a pillar.

With Ashe and Bernadetta covering her Edelgard moved up to hold the ground Hilda had cleared, pushing forwards towards the next choke point.

~o~*~o~

Byleth and Leonie entered a wider chamber that had passages splitting off in numerous directions. One of them was presumably the Agarthan's entry into Abyss as they'd left a hulking brute of a man to guard the space. He stood from where he'd been resting against a wall and hefted a greataxe up to meet them.

Byleth made a quick motion with her hand and Leonie began circling one way while Byleth moved the other until they were flanking him as they moved forwards.

He laughed at them and swung; the deadly reach of his weapon more than enough to arc through them both.

Except that Byleth rolled forwards beneath the arc, slashing at his leg and skittering back further behind him. With a sharp hiss he turned to keep her in sight, allowing Leonie an opportunity for a quick stab, piercing into his shoulder. The brute backed up to get them both in view and Byleth charged in, engaging him with quick blows, forcing him to defend where he'd already been wounded. He bellowed at her and swung the axe down in a powerful cleave that might have broken stone. It would have broken Byleth had she still been there, but the mercenary had stepped to the side.

With the axe down Leonie was able to drive her spear through his chest.

Byleth nodded sharply at her just as the sound of running footfalls began echoing around them down the passageways; summoned by his yelling. They turned back-to-back to face the entrances to the chamber, tensely awaiting the reinforcements

~o~*~o~

Dimitri ordered Petra and two of their battalions to fall back to Mercedes for healing then moved forward to relieve Dedue, fighting at Edelgard's side. His lance thrust forward piercing through the Agarthan line, funnelling them to the side to be mowed down by Edelgard's axe, Claude angling his shots over them to keep them from being overwhelmed as the barricade beside them was broken from their opponent's side, and a new wave charged at them.

The prince called out a sharp oder and Annette's battalion unleashed a fury of thunder on them, halting the charge in their tracks. Another word and Balthus and Hilda swept in to clear the space and guard that flank.

With Claude, Ashe, Annette, Bernadetta and Shamir at their backs, Dimitri and Edelgard began the next push forward to where Solon was still scribing furiously into the ground with the Circe Staff.

~o~*~o~

Five enemies in close range were bad odds for two people fighting back to back. Leonie kept her spear moving, forcing her opponents back as Byleth stepped forwards on her side to bring a conclusion to those fights as swiftly as she could, carefully not letting them past her to her partner's unprotected back.

Five enemies in close range were bad odds for two people fighting back to back. Even when that pair were using forms that had been designed to work in close combat together. Leonie's withdrawals posed no danger to Byleth's balance, and Byleth's sword was never in position to accidentally catch the shaft of the spear, but they weren't _progressing_ , only defending. Something was off.

Byleth caught a hasty blade overhead, but Leonie's countering thrust came in short and Byleth only dodged her enemy's parry by chance. Frowning she fell back a half-step with her next stroke and suddenly the rhythm came to her once more. When Leonie stuck a foe she was ready to step in and slice them from the spear-tip. Where her blade locked against another, Leonie was in a position to sweep the enemy and crack their skull with the butt of her lance. It was a familiar dance; one she had learned from her Father.

He had taught Leonie his part in it.

Byleth only had to adjust for the difference in reach.

~o~*~o~

There was a clear space before the dais Solon was working on where there were no pillars or barricades, but the forces from Garreg Mach had one more line to break through before they could start that last assault. Edelgard was spearheading the charge as though the Agarthan incursion was a personal affront to her.

Considering it, Dimitri suspected that might not be too far from the truth. He kept close enough to watch the flanks and signalled Claude to move over to provide her better cover.

As they advanced he came level with the side door just as a mage in a dark mask was thrown through it, crashing to the floor and rolling to a stop by his feet. Dimitri ended him swiftly and looked over to see Byleth and Leonie framed in the doorway. Leonie saluted and Byleth gave a curt nod, closing the door again to prevent any enemy reinforcements coming that way -or fleeing through there.

A dark smile curved over Dimitri's face. Knowing that his back was clear, he called his battalion up and strode forwards to match Edelgard. They would have justice for Remire. This very day. This very hour.

The battle-lust pushed him forward. They would have justice.

And they would live to see it.

Before they advanced into the open space before the dais he called for Pure Water to be taken by anyone who couldn't be Warded and moved Mercedes's healing team closer to their ranks.

They moved and Solon cursed as he was forced to leave off his work and defend himself.

~o~*~o~

By Byleth's reckoning, they must be coming close to the second door now. Another turn, perhaps two, and they'd have made it and could rejoin the rest of their forces, hitting the Agarthans from behind. With Leonie at her back she strode forward to the next turning, but rounded the corner too quickly. It was a mistake on her part, she'd been over-confident, lulled by the familiar rhythm of Jeralt's fighting style, of having a reliable spear at her back. The trap she'd stood in hadn't been too bad; a simple snare, a moment with her dagger and she'd have freed herself.

No, it was the warlock who turned and blasted Ragnarok at her that was the issue.

She didn't even scream as it seared her, pulling on the hands of time instinctively.

Seven paces from the corner, Byleth suddenly leaned heavily against the wall, spots dancing before her eyes, some deep yawning pit within draining her energy away. Sothis had not been mistaken when she'd said there would be a cost to using that ability without her power to draw from.

"Byleth?" Leonie asked, a hand carefully on her shoulder "Your eyes are… glowing? Or… not- it's fading, but for a moment there…"

"Warlock" Byleth breathed "around the corner, and a snare." A concerned look crossed Leonie's face

"You… sure? Your eyes were green for a second just now. Are you alright?"

Byleth considered for a moment, finding that thinking required a great deal more effort than she was used to -as if her mind was attempting to work through treacle, before deciding a simplified version of the truth was all she had the energy for "It's a revelation thing."

Leonie heaved her off the wall and supported her a few steps back down the passageway to an alcove "So, what, the Goddess forewarns you of stuff now? You're really a Saint? Claude said you'd all spoken with her…"

"Not precisely." Byleth said collapsing heavily back against the wall Leonie guided her to and pinching the bridge of her nose to see if that would help with the dots swimming before her eyes "Although, it is a good way to explain it…"

Leonie hummed and kicked a stone, sending it skittering down the way they'd come and squeezing herself in next to Byleth to remain hidden and listen for the warlock approaching. He stepped lightly, and it was only the drag of his robe that gave him away as he paced carefully past them looking for the disturbance. With his back an unguarded target for her, Leonie's spear did not miss.

"I guess I never thought there might be drawbacks to divine power." Leonie continued without missing a beat, helping Byleth back off the wall "Everyone's been throwing around words like 'Saint' and 'Oracle' and calling you the Hero of the Revelation, but without actually knowing what that _means._ "

"I'm still working that part out." Byleth admitted "You'd better take point." She continued, once she was comfortable enough walking on her own.

"You're not going to go collapsing on me if I let go are you?"

"My head hurts, but it's easing… I probably shouldn't try that in the thick of combat… I'll be more careful from here on. Thank you, Leonie."

Leonie puffed up, eyes smiling "Don't worry! I'll make sure you're safe. I have a promise to keep."

~o~*~o~

Byleth and Leonie may have cut off the possibility of fresh reinforcements, but Solon could conjure his own. Claude drew and fired swiftly when he recognised that dark vapour beginning to form in the sorcerer's hands, but the arrow fell short and Solon's dark chant continued. "Don't let him complete that spell!" Claude shouted pushing forward as Dimitri and Edelgard cleared a space for him. "Archers, Mages! Forwards!"

His second arrow also fell short. Bernadetta was forced to divert her shot to a mage who attempted to flank them. Dimitri broke the line ahead of them with a powerful sweep of his lance. Annette send a blade of wind slashing forwards to be caught by a ward as one of the mages still guarding Solon moved to intercept. Edelgard cleaved her axe down on a grappler with enough force to sever limbs and Claude stepped forwards again. His third arrow pierced through the skirt of Solon's robes and passed through the cloth leaving him unharmed as the spell caught and spread out along the floor.

Claude cursed as the undead began to rise around them.

"W-what? He can r-raise the dead?" Bernadetta shivered

"I didn't want to believe it." Edelgard murmured, eyes narrowing as she backed into a defensive circle with Claude and Dimitri

"Well believe it." Claude answered, notching and firing an arrow through the other eye-socket of a mage he'd _just_ performed the same manoeuvre on to end him the first time.

"This is sorcery most foul! As a scion of house Nuvelle I cannot allow this to pass!"

"I don't think anyone can allow _this_ to pass, Coco."

"Huh, you really didn't strike me as a 'Coco'." Claude mused, ducking under a sword with a spin as he readied his shot to counter fire.

"How dare!" She snapped back "I am Constance Von Nuvelle! You may address me as Lady Constance. Only Hapi has the privilege to use a less formal moniker."

"In other words she realised she couldn't stop me." Hapi explained blithely, as her dark magic tore one of the revenants apart.

"Coco it is then." Claude agreed. Grinning even as Constance summoned a deafening blast of Thunder to decimate the opponents before her.

"Less antagonising our allies, please Claude" Dimitri interjected, pushing forwards far enough to reach the base of the dais where Solon stood and sidestepping a blast of magic. Solon sneered down at them.

"It is over Solon! Surrender and I shall ensure your death is quick." Edelgard demanded.

The Dark Bishop scoffed at her. "We had such hopes for you." He lamented "You would have become Hegemon of the light-lands. Alas, for all our efforts, you are just another beast and it falls to me to be the saviour of all."

"Save your words. They will not keep your head on your shoulders." Dimitri answered, though his voice did not hold the same darkness he'd been under during that first encounter with Solon in Remire.

"Dear Prince, do you think her worth defending? She would have ground you into dust beneath her heel had she only stayed the course. Do you truly believe you can trust her now?"

"Oh stop being sour that you lost your hold on the Empire" Claude answered "That was the most pitiful attempt at turning us against each other you could have managed. I expected better."

Solon harrumphed "As for you, the surprise heir of Riegan, I should have put you down the first chance I got, Almyran mongrel."

There was a beat of silence. Had he not been desperately running through a thousand deflections in his mind, Claude might have admitted _that_ was a much better attempt at dividing them; but he had to think fast to counter it and- it was already too late. He heard Hilda's gasp somewhere behind him and flinched.

Then Edelgard turned her hard stare on the marksman "Was _that_ all it was!? Your hometown is in Almyra? Of course it is. _How_ could I have missed it?"

"It does seem obvious in hindsight." Dimitri agreed. "I can even understand why you'd hide it. The prejudice against Almyra is much alike that against Duscur."

"I'd just like to point out, I haven't actually admitted to anything." Claude answered carefully.

"You cannot hide it from us now!" Edelgard insisted

"You can operate under any theory or hypothesis you like, your Imperialness. I just want you to remember, should anyone ask, that **I** didn't tell you."

Edelgard started, but Dimitri cut her off "Ah, I see. That's how it is. Very well, Claude, we'll remember."

"Glad we're on the same page here."

"How charming." Solon remarked dryly "Now you can all die together without any misunderstandings between you."

"Ah, one thing before you kill us?" Claude added as the Dark Bishop raised his hand. "You might want to check behind you."

Solon did not get the opportunity to follow Claude's advice as Leonie thrust her spear through him from behind. Byleth stepped forwards and slit his throat with her dagger as he fell to the ground. Around them, the risen undead continued their assault, but Edelgard hefted her axe and called out a victory cheer nonetheless.

~o~*~o~

Myson took in the the battlefield; Solon was lost, the few living troops they had remaining were sure to fall in moments and, more than just the Empire; it seemed all three nations _and_ the Church were now working together against them. Abandoning what remained of their forces, he warped away to the relative safety of one of Abyss's disused passages, and began making his way back to report their situation to Thales.

~o~*~o~

Byleth picked her way through the wreckage of the battle, scanning the black powdery remains of the reanimated dead for any identifiable weapons, Leonie keeping to her side. After a moment she hailed Claude over to them, pulling him from what looked like an awkward moment with Hilda.

"Was she here?"

Claude shook his head "No, she wasn't. Sorry, Friend."

Byleth waved a dismissive hand and Leonie sucked in a sharp breath as she realised what this pairing had been about. Byleth looked over to her with a grim smile.

"Next time."

"Next time." Leonie agreed.

~o~*~o~

"We should have kept the girl somewhere more secure." Thales frowned, looking at the pitiful few vials of blood they had remaining as in the background another failed attempt at enhancing a Demonic Beast thrashed around in it's death throes.

"Not to disparage Solon's work, of course, but have you considered that the girl may only exist because the _father_ is special?" Myson asked.

"If that is the case then best you hope it is the _father_ , and not the mother who was _special_. Not that it is of much use to us if it is, that lapdog is almost as well guarded, and as careful, as the Archbishop."

"True." Myson agreed "But there is the Shrine at Rhodos, an attack there may lure him out. And we yet have sway within the Western Church."

"…Yes." Thales mused "Yes, I see where you're headed with this. Let me think on it; we cannot afford any great risks at present." Myson bowed and began to withdraw but was halted as Thales called after him "Tell me, what of this girl, this hero of the revelation, the one they've started calling a living Saint?"

Myson shrugged "She is a strong tactician. An exemplary fighter; daughter of the former Captain of the Knights, likely that's why they chose her, there's nothing particularly special about her that I could make out. No Crest, no blood."

"A 'people's hero' then" Thales sneered "Still… one worth keeping an eye on."


	25. Epilogue: Graduation

Great Tree Moon

In the doorway of the Star Terrace on the third floor of the Monastery, Rhea stood in her simple shift with her hair unbound in the gentle breeze, watching as dawn broke across the sky.

After a moment she sighed and turned back towards her chambers, posture straightening as she walked, as though she were already wearing the regalia of the Archbishop.

She had not been relieved from this duty, she thought, as she sat before her mirror and began the careful process of combing her hair. She still had this part to play. Her Mother had made it very clear that this task was left to her. She had become one of the supporting pillars of the land and so she had oversee this transition; she had brought it on herself.

After her hair came the mantle, and as she pulled it on she looked over at the documents still poised ready at the edge of her bed. One was a copy of Edelgard's address to her nation. The line "twisting the Church of Seiros to their purpose by misusing the creed and falsifying the will of the Goddess" had been underlined sharply and a note in Seteth's precise hand in the margin went into somewhat _exhaustive_ detail on the Emperor's expectations for how the creed would be amended going forwards.

Rhea huffed and shook her head. She had been slowly working towards many of Edelgard's points already. Impeded by the Western Church's intolerance and the Relic lore she'd mistakenly backed herself in to when she'd been younger and more foolish... The gradual softening of the doctrine over the next few centuries that she had intended had suddenly rushed forwards in one great bound to happen all at once. It was so very _human_. To have it all done immediately; to burn so brightly and so quickly compared to the slow embers of Nabatea. Yet she understood it. Had she not wished so dearly for her Mother to do the same? To sweep in and reform the land?

In the end, the duty remained her own.

After the mantle came the headdress. She moved back to the mirror to ensure it was correct, taking the document with her. On the reverse Seteth had noted the concerns from the Kingdom and the extensive bickering from the Alliance Roundtable. At the very edge of the paper Byleth Eisner had added a short note in her own careful hand;

"She would want more dancing."

It brought the faintest hint of a smile to her lips. In the midst of all the politics, the posturing, the manoeuvring… someone still remembered _Sothis_.

And now… now the Church could concern itself less with the judgement of Seiros, and more with the grace of Sothis.

She left the paper on her vanity and turned to collect the second document; her speech for the graduating class, her speech for the faithful still awaiting word from revelation, her speech officially bringing the Church of Seiros into the war.

She might never be _ready_ to do this without her Mother's guiding hand. She might never be able to come to terms with the memory of Zanado.

Yet she picked up the speech and moved forward anyway.

A new year was about to begin.

~o~*~o~

At the dawning of the year 1181 a spark was carefully banked between the three nations of Fódlan. The new Emperor of Adrestia, Edelgard von Hresvelg, laid out the Garreg Mach Accords, binding each nation to the defence of their neighbours in the ongoing conflict against Those Who Slither in the Dark, and any outside threat that may arise to threaten the peace of Fódlan. Crown Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of Faerghus and Leicester's Heir Apparent, Claude von Riegan, added their seals to the Accords, each agreeing to reaffirm their commitment once they had ascended to their respective roles as King and Duke.

Each country, and the Church of Seiros, vouchsafed troops and supplies to Fódlan's joint army, under the combined leadership of a council of the three nations, the Church and the newly appointed General Eisner; First Commander of the coalition forces.

Sources from the time disagree whether the General was considered Saint or Demon, but her legend was soon to ring out across all of Fódlan and the lands beyond.

~o~*~o~

After the graduation ceremony on the academy grounds, while the House Leaders were officially handing over their headship to the next year's candidates, Leonie made her way down past the drawbridge to take her leave of the mercenaries. With Seteth's support, and Rhea's assent, Byleth's men had taken over their old billet and a couple of the buildings surrounding it as "neutral territory" -No longer officially part of the Church and not technically _in_ any of the countries, a place where all would be equal. Emperor, Archbishop and Captain alike.

The men spilled out into the sunlight to greet her, Willard and Raoul leaning against the veranda's stone pillars as Sanderson swept forward and took up both of Leonie's hands. Byleth was not to be seen.

"And, what will you do next, Miss Leonie? My most cherished audience member? Now that the Academy has polished up your skills I suppose you'll be fighting off the Lords wanting to hire you."

"Ha! No, I'm not so lucky as that. I guess I'll have to head home and start looking for work... I need to pay back my debt after all." Willard and Raoul exchanged a glance

"Well, and so you could." Sanderson agreed "Not sure you heading all the way out to Sauin is going to do you much good at that though. Plenty of hunting work, some good, honest, salt-of-the-earth farmers, but nothing that will bring in the sort of coin you'd need to pay back the tuition here in any hurry."

"You've been to my village?" Leonie asked.

"Oh many times, I've been _everywhere_ once or twice. Happen it, the Boss sent me that way on a little errand not so long ago. Come to think of it, it may interest you to know that you don't owe Sauin village a single gold piece."

"Wait, what?" Leonie exclaimed.

"That's right" Sanderson teased "The Boss sent me along to buy out your whole debt. Including that ridiculous fee Count Gloucester charged for recommending you. So, I suppose if you really _wanted_ to, you could head home and start paying her back bit by bit… although you'd probably find it much more lucrative to work off what you owe her by joining the company."

Leonie looked at them in stupefaction for a long moment.

"But… but _why?_ "

"Because we have a job to finish." Byleth spoke, and Willard and Raoul stepped apart to allow Leonie to see her standing in the doorway; arms folded, expression level "Because you fight like my Father. You'll never have his height, his reach, but from horseback that won't matter so much. I can work with that. Also… because he chose you, I suppose. I trust his judgement. You belong with us." Her head tipped to one side, a small smile filtering over her lips "What do you say, Apprentice?"

Leonie didn't need to think about it for even a moment.

" _Yes_! I mean, yes Ma'am! Yes Boss! Yes-"

"Alright, alright we get it." Raoul groused, and turning, waved them off, shouldering his way past Byleth "I'm going to catch some kip while you lot deal with all the _emotional_ guff."

Sanderson rolled his eyes, and Willard sighed, but Byleth was still smiling for Leonie.

"Welcome to Jeralt's Mercenaries."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi
> 
> Yes, that does look suspiciously like a Crimson Flower cop-out ending, doesn’t it? Where we’re told the war on Agartha happens but don’t see it. _Well_. About that.  
> Those of you who read my earlier note will already know; I’m separating the war-phase into another fic. 
> 
> See, around chapter 21-22 a number of people suddenly got very excited for a golden route.
> 
> I’m not writing a golden route. I’m still debating whether or not Dimitri even gets to keep his eye. People, students, will die. You can probably assume Claude is safe, eternal survivor that he is, but I will not give assurances for anyone else. 
> 
> I’m also going to start leaning _much_ heavier on the shipping -and not just Claudeleth either, although there will be plenty of that. I don’t think I’ll be changing the rating and the tone will be much the same, however, for those of you who _really_ want the golden route; consider the author dead. If you want to take your leave here, and go on to imagine that everything is fine, to dwell always in sunlit gardens and play about with this continuity in your head, then you do that with my blessing. You may happily ignore the next part of the series.
> 
> To those of you thinking “Um, excuse me, the author is _very much alive_ ; she’s been posting fanfiction **serially** and **_interacting with us in comments_** and there are enough lose threads here to open a haberdashery!” yes, you’re quite right. General, or maybe Saint, or Oracle or Commander (I’m really not sure yet, I may give up and call it Identity Crisis) will start publishing… after a break. 
> 
> See, there are some other things I’ve been working on that I want to give more attention to, so those of you who are just here for the Claudeleth can look forwards to that. And some of those things are actually side stories/paralogues to Mercenary (Like the story of that one “miscreant” guy finally getting his comeuppance) so there’ll be a collection as well as the series. Plus I’m being careful with it because… well, this is a completely new route, compared to white clouds which kept in pace with cannon. 
> 
> What I’m saying here is; don’t panic, there’s more coming, I’m just working on some other things for a bit. Cool? Cool. 
> 
> Stay safe, and be excellent to each other.  
> 💛 💙 🖤


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